


Finding Center

by BawdyBean



Series: The Life and Times of Eskel, Witcher [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexual Geralt, Blow Jobs, Brothels, Compromise, Cumplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, F/M, First Time for Everything Fest, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Painplay, Monogamous Character, Mutual Masturbation, No Penis In Vagina Sex, One Night Stands, Other, Polyamorous Character, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Self-Learning, Shameless Smut, Witcher Contracts, sexual awakening, succubi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-02-08 01:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 91,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdyBean/pseuds/BawdyBean
Summary: Journey through Eskel's history as he struggles to figure out who he is, what he likes, and who he might love:It started innocuously enough, huddled together facing the fire, Eskel’s bulkier body playing big spoon to Geralt’s lither frame. At sixteen years old with no real experience to speak of outside of his hand Eskel was startled to find his body reacting in ways he never realized it could to another man.And that was how it started. If Eskel looked back seventy-odd years later, and tried to lay a finger on it, he would have said it was that hunt that opened his eyes to the fact that his tastes might not run the same as everyone else. He had felt off kilter at the revelation like he’d suddenly realized he didn’t fit in the world in yet another way. It would take him years, decades to find his center again.CH. 15:Unable to stand disappointing Geralt on top of everything else Eskel picked up the bowl and set it in his lap. After a long pause, he brought the wooden spoon to his lips. The porridge was warm, and tasted pleasant, but swallowing was hard. Eskel fought the urge to gag.





	1. Ancient History

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a medium-ish fic that follows Eskel through his smutty sexual history on his way to figuring his sh** out. He will test out his own boundaries and find out what he likes and what he _doesn't_. Recollections of past lovers, what he learned from those encounters both sexually and emotionally and how he takes that forward to pursue what he really desires once he finally figures that out.
> 
> Unlike my last fic I don't have this one all laid out yet, but wanted to get started writing and can't hold out on posting if I have written... so expect I don't know between 10 and 20 chapters following Eskel from teenager to at least post Witcher 3? Vague I know, sorry, not too sorry. ~Bbean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started innocuously enough, huddled together facing the fire, Eskel’s bulkier body playing big spoon to Geralt’s lither frame. At sixteen years old with no real experience to speak of outside of his hand Eskel was startled to find his body reacting in ways he never realized it could to another man.
> 
> And that was how it started. If Eskel looked back seventy-odd years later, and tried to lay a finger on it, he would have said it was that hunt that opened his eyes to the fact that his tastes might not run the same as everyone else. He had felt off kilter at the revelation like he’d suddenly realized he didn’t fit in the world in yet another way. It would take him years, decades to find his center again. To find a way to be at peace with who and what he was, and with others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a medium-ish fic that follows Eskel through his smutty sexual history on his way to figuring his sh** out. He will test out his own boundaries and find out what he likes and what he doesn't. Recollections of past lovers, what he learned from those encounters both sexually and emotionally and how he takes that forward to pursue what he really desires once he finally figures that out.
> 
> Unlike my last fic I don't have this one all laid out yet, but wanted to get started writing and can't hold out on posting if I have written... so expect I don't know between 10 and 20 chapters following Eskel from teenager to at least post Witcher 3? Vague I know, sorry, not too sorry. ~Bbean
> 
> edited to make it more cohesive with the upcoming chapter- some words changed for continuity 4/30/19

It wasn’t winter, not yet. Still it was stunningly cold in the fall in Kaedwen. Vesemir had warned them as much before they set out, reminding them that they might be wise to bring an extra blanket each in their packs. Eskel and Geralt were young and hardy though, they had assured each other as they prepared to set out on their hunt to control the forktail population in the mountains south of Kaer Morhen. It was their first unsupervised multi-night excursion. That space might be better used for bombs, and crossbow bolts, in case they missed their mark. Food lest they go hungry. Oh how wrong they had been. Despite the large fire Eskel had roared to life in front of them it was well below freezing the first night they were out in the Blue Mountains.

_ Don’t return until you have a trophy head each,  _ Vesemir’s words rang in their heads. Witchers were hardy alright, but it was still colder than a waterhag’s left titty out there. So Eskel and Geralt put their heads together to come up with a plan and then they put their bedrolls together. They had decided sharing heat was the best solution to not freezing their asses off until they hunted down two forktails. They’d keep the mountain passes safe, they’d live to tell the tale with all ten toes still attached, and next time Vesemir suggested an extra addition to their pack they’d damn well listen. They were not even twenty yet and he was near two hundred, bastard might know a thing or two they had to admit. They just didn’t have to admit it to him.

It started innocuously enough, huddled together facing the fire, Eskel’s bulkier body playing big spoon to Geralt’s lither frame. At sixteen years old with no real experience to speak of outside of his hand Eskel was startled to find his body reacting in ways he never realized it could to another man. Sure he’d seen the other boys naked hoping out of the baths as fast as they could in the winter to get dressed, but he’d never paid it any mind. No one did. The goal was to get your own cold body into the bath as quickly as possible. There were no women around the Kaer Morhen to speak of. When he touched himself he didn’t think of anything specific, focusing mainly on what speed, what tightness, what places felt the best. Eeking more pleasure out of those things in the limited privacy he had. He had wondered abstractly what a woman’s body might feel like, but he hadn’t have the opportunity to find out and he knew he wouldn’t so he didn’t dwell on it.

Now though, here in front of him, pressed back against him, was Geralt. Warm and firm, breathing gently, and Eskel felt himself swell. He didn’t have to wonder abstractly what this body felt like. Geralt was rearranging himself in front of Eskel to get more comfortable, scooting farther up against him to steal his heat. Worse Eskel could feel how his swollen flesh, even tightly constrained in his leathers, fit perfectly snug up against the curve of Geralt’s ass. He tried to relax and settled his mind away from his unruly body, taking a deep breath through his nose. Which turned out to be a horrible idea because then the sharp tang of his own arousal assaulted him, smelling strongly of salty fresh rain. He opened his mouth instead and breathed through it, exhaling warmly against the back of Geralt’s head, and tried to ignore how much his cock itched inside his leathers. Geralt shifted restlessly in front of him again, pressing his free hand between his own thighs for warmth. Eventually Eskel did manage to sleep.

Eskel woke up warmer, even though the fire had burned low overnight. The early morning sun was heating him up, and he could no longer see his breath in the air. He realized with a grim frustration that he was still half hard and aching where Geralt was curled back against him, but he brushed that thought aside immediately. Time to get up and get on with their task.

They broke camp, ate some of their rations, and discussed strategy for locating their target. By late afternoon they had discovered some signs of forktail inhabitation, and began gathering supplies to make a decent goat dummy. Brother Adelbert’s Bestiary recommended a live goat on a stake sure, but they would have to improvise- that was part of the point of this trip anyway. Forcing them come up with solutions that were not necessarily in the books.

Haphazard dummy in place they waited out the evening. Shortly before dusk their prey arrived intrigued by the vaguely goat shaped branches they’d bundled together and Geralt’s near comical bleating noises. They rushed out to meet it head on. It flew up into the air and they each tossed a bomb at it hoping to knock it back down. They only succeeded in stunning the forktail midair, allowing Eskel to get in a good blast of aard which finally grounded the creature. From there, with two of them both highly skilled in their swordsmanship even at such a young age, it was quick work to cut the beast down. It was a female, on the younger side. Grinning like idiots, they worked to harvest any good parts for potions and chop off the head for a trophy before dark settled in. One down, one to go.

Eskel and Geralt made camp for the night, again throwing their bedrolls together for warmth. Using water from their meager supply to rinse away the blood from their hands, Geralt commented that he did not want to get forktail blood all over his bedroll, or Eskel’s for that matter. He stripped down to his braies and shirt before climbing in.

“Maybe tomorrow we can find one of the mountain streams to rinse of the worst of it off,” Geralt commented, “Or maybe we’ll have found a second fortail.” 

“Hopefully,” Eskel paused swallowing hard before following suit stripping down to his underclothes before he crawled into the bedrolls next to Geralt.

Of course as soon as he was sharing heat with Geralt inside their bedrolls Eskel’s body began to betray him and his strange interest in the situation again. Only now more it was more heightened by the lack of layers between his own body and Geralt’s. Even though Geralt had not commented at all about the previous night, Eskel was sure he’d noticed. Witcher senses were beyond keen enough, if Eskel had smelt his own arousal so had his friend. He doubted that Geralt hadn’t been able to feel him harden against him either. Maybe Geralt thought Eskel was just horny and unable to keep his mind off of girls, or was having a vivid dream.

Eskel didn’t want spend the night aching against his best friend again though. Because then that illusion might not hold. And Eskel wasn’t even sure why his body was reacting this way so there was no way he could have explained it if he needed to. Instead he decided to turn over facing away from the fire, back to Geralt, still touching but not spooned up behind him. It was easier then to fall asleep, even if it was a little colder.

And that was how it started. If Eskel looked back seventy-odd years later, and tried to lay a finger on it, he would have said it was that hunt that opened his eyes to the fact that his tastes might not run the same as everyone else. He had felt off kilter at the revelation like he’d suddenly realized he didn’t fit in the world in yet another way. It would take him years, decades to find his center again. To find a way to be at peace with who and what he was, and with others.

~~~~~

The next morning Eskel woke slowly, almost too warm under the bedroll cover. His back felt sweat damp and Geralt’s front was plastered against it, his moist breath exhaling along Eskel’s spine where his neck was exposed. Geralt’s arm curled low around his waist, holding Eskel tightly against him, Geralt’s knees tucked neatly up behind the backs of Eskel’s legs. Eskel felt like he was suffocating from the closeness. He tried to stretch ever so slightly in Geralt’s hold, only to have Geralt increase the grip around his waist and press up against Eskel with a groan in his sleep. Eskel stilled instantly. He was suddenly very awake. Eskel’s heart thundered in his ears. Nestled in the valley created by the bottom of his ass cheeks was an unmistakable hardness. Lying very still,  Eskel panicked quietly for several long minutes. A few minutes too long apparently, because Geralt eventually stirred behind him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you,” Geralt offered meekly, removing his arm from Eskel’s waist.

“I- I’m not upset,” Eskel rolled onto his back, once the sensation of Geralt’s hard cock was taken away Eskel could breathe a little more evenly, hell maybe even think a little more clearly.

“Don’t lie to me,” Geralt huffed out annoyed. He turned away to face the dying fire in the morning light. “I can hear your heartbeat Eskel, it’s what woke me up.”

“I-” Eskel covered his face with both hands, “-Shit! Sorry, Geralt! I’m just… confused? Don’t be mad at me.”

Geralt was quiet for half a moment, “I’m not mad at you Eskel,” Geralt’s voice was quiet in the dead of the forest. “I guess I just thought after how aroused you smelled, that you were more… open to the idea?”

“Wait. You’ve done things like that before!?” Eskel squeaked out, half horrified half in awe, upper body raising off the bedroll with the question.

“GODS NO!” Geralt practically yelled at him and Eskel shrunk back into the bedroll stunned. “I mean I’ve overheard about how things work from some of the older witchers, it's not exactly considered appropriate by any leap of faith. But we’re best friends and I trust you… and I thought- the way you smelled and your body felt.” Geralt shook his head, still looking away from Eskel, “Sorry.”

Eskel gathered all of his courage, more than it took him to face a gravehag, and reached out to put his right hand on Geralt’s hip. And this time Geralt went still.

“I wasn’t upset at you Geralt, honest.” Eskel took a deep breath, “I didn’t know, and I didn’t want you to be offended. And then I woke up and I was scared.”

Geralt rolled onto his back looking at Eskel's face. Honesty shone in his golden cat eyes, “Why would you be scared of me?”

“Didn’t want you to not be my best friend anymore.”

“That will never happen,” Geralt said it with such surety that it instantly put Eskel at ease. “So you’re not entirely opposed to the idea?” Geralt ventured.

“Um, maybe not?” Eskel hesitated, still not sure what the idea entailed. He had never overheard those stories. “I mean neither of us is a girl so I’m not sure how that would work.”

“Well from what I have heard, it’s not really any different, except I don’t have tits, and you don’t have a cunt,” Geralt laughed at himself and let his hand fall over Eskel’s in between them.

“Oh,” Eskel breathed out, letting his fingers brush up against Geralt’s. “So we would just touch each other and kiss and stuff?”

“If that's alright? Yeah. Like when you get yourself off, except I’ll touch you and you can touch me?” Eskel could hear Geralt’s heart rate quickening. Eskel rolled onto his side to look at his best friend, seeing Geralt in a different light now.

Geralt’s eyes were soft with arousal, glowing golden back at him. His lips looked soft too, and Eskel had never gotten to kiss anyone. He wanted to know what those lips felt like on his own. He leaned on his elbow as he bent over to place his lips over Geralt’s closing his eyes. Eskel stayed there for a moment, feeling like every nerve in his body was now located in his lips, they tingled as Geralt’s scraped back over them. Eskel pulled back from Geralt’smouth, and Geralt’s eyes were closed now. When Geralt parted his lips slightly licking out over them with the tip of his tongue like he was trying to taste Eskel there. Eskel made a strange noise high in the back of his throat unwillingly and bent down to kiss Geralt again. This time Eskel let his own lips fall open and Geralt’s tongue entered his mouth, seeking out a taste of him. Eskel felt himself thickening up in his braies. This felt good. This felt right. Like something he'd been waiting a long time for, which technically he had. If he weren’t a witcher he’d probably already have found a girl, at year or two older Geralt certainly would have by now. Then without Eskel realizing it was happening Geralt was pushing him over onto his back, taking control of the kiss. The hand on his chest that Geralt had used to put him there was traveling slowly lower, and Eskel’s blood was pumping ever faster with each beat of his heart.

The feel of someone else’s hand on Eskel’s throbbing hard cock for the first time was indescribable. He bucked up into Geralt’s tentative touch with a shudder and a start. It was too much and not enough all at once. Geralt’s fingers stroked lightly over Eskel’s sensitive head and Eskel groaned in pleasure, they traced down his shaft to the base of his cock and slid around to grip him not too tight, but a little tighter than he would have held himself.

Eskel was breathing heavily, through his mouth and nose, because he felt like he needed more air right now. As Geralt slowly, tightly jacked him off he reveled in the feeling of not knowing what was coming next. The sensation of how the callouses on Geralt’s hands were different to his own, because it wasn’t his hand, and before Eskel knew it he was grunting hard and spilling all over Geralt’s hand inside his braies.

When Eskel came down from his high, he realized it felt kind of gross. To be stuck in his own fluids, and that he needed to wash but he only had one spare pair of braies because he had not planned on this. Geralt had wiped his hand on Eskel’s braies too, which was fair. Geralt was making his way over to their packs to find some water to rinse his hand the rest of the way off with. He returned with Eskel’s spare braies, too. Eskel hazily realized he owed Geralt some satisfaction himself.

“Hey c’mere,” Eskel beckoned him over with his hand as he changed out his braies, wiping himself down the best he could.

“Hmm?” Geralt hummed questioningly as he knelt on the bedrolls in front of Eskel.

“Turn around, please,” Eskel asked, thinking this would feel best if it was in the same position as if it was his own cock he was touching, that was certainly the only way he had practice at it.

Geralt turned around on his knees facing the fire, away from Eskel. Eskel came up right behind him and planted his knees on either side of Geralt’s legs to get close, sliding up against Geralt. Eskel placed his hand on one of Geralt’s hips and used the other to move his hair to the side so he could kiss Geralt’s neck. With one hand on his friend’s hip, and his lips grazing at his neck, Eskel reached around in front of Geralt to squeeze him through his shorts. A little tease, just the way he liked it himself. Geralt hissed softly and pressed his cock against Eskel’s hand. Instead of putting his hand in Geralt’s own braies, Eskel pushed them down and tucked them under Geralt’s balls. He could hear Geralt’s heart pounding away. Eskel brushed his fingertips over Geralt’s length several times before he felt Geralt swallowing harshly under his lips. Then Eskel gripped him firmly, and efficiently stroked Geralt up and down, bringing him to a fast peak. Eskel marveled at how different Geralt’s cock felt in his hand, slimmer, but at least an inch longer than his own. Eskel’s cock was not short by any means, it's just that it was thick and fat, average or a bit more in length whereas Geralt’s felt so long in his hand. He could feel Geralt’s body tightening up. All of Geralt’s muscles tensed more and more in anticipation. Eskel brought the other hand from Geralt’s hip to play gently with his balls, something Eskel had long found himself to enjoy. Eskel registered Geralt tipping his head back to rest on his shoulder and then felt the full body shudder that raked through Geralt as his body let go, sending his cum shooting through the air in an arc in front of them. Not quite landing on the campfire, but impressive enough still.

Hips still thrusting blindly forward weakly, breath rushing out of him Geralt exclaimed, “Fuck Eskel. I think you jack off better than me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are like cookies, feel free to feed the writer sugary treats :)


	2. Clearly Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vesemir looked around carefully taking in the scene and breathing deeply in the crisp fall air of Kaer Morhen’s courtyard. Eskel got the impression he was being sniffed out, in the most literal sense. He realized all to late how true that probably was, it had been too cold to bathe in the mountain stream and they probably smelled like nothing but forktail blood, sweat, and lust to their teacher. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onwards with the story! And by story I mean *cough* Eskel's angsty teen escapades *cough*...
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to bookscorpian for the wonderful beta! <3

That first forktail hunt was amazing and exhilarating for Eskel, both sexually and as a novice witcher. They spent three more days tracking down a second draconid, baiting and waiting. Two more nights fumbling under the covers of their bedrolls with each other’s dicks in hand, learning what it felt like to be touched by someone, anyone else. Eskel liked kissing Geralt, liked the way it made his lips feel soft and sensitive, tingly with warmth. It wasn’t only Geralt’s mouth either. He could have spent a long time kissing Geralt’s neck, the smooth tender skin behind his ears, even the back of his shoulders if they didn’t have work to do out there.

He liked the way Geralt felt in his arms. He didn’t mind Geralt holding him either, but it didn’t feel quite as good as being the one to provide the comfort. And as it had always been he liked having Geralt as a friend, working with him to plot the downfall of their next target. It was a rush to lure the second forktail in using the trophy from the first as bait. It was a high working back to back with his best friend to bring it down to the ground using their bombs. Eksel putting his best skill forward kept the beast stunned with axii while Geralt got into position to put in the finishing blow, skills complementing each other. They just worked well together, they always had.

 

On the fifth day when they strode back in the gates of Kaer Morhen, each with a trophy on their hook, Vesemir seemed pleased. As pleased as he allowed himself to be with any recruit who survived this far. Eskel felt different walking in those gates than when he’d left. He felt like he had learned something. Something about working with others of course, but also about himself. He felt a little older, a little wiser, and smugly a little more worldly. Not that anyone of his fellow Wolves would ever know, besides Geralt.

And yet… Vesemir seems to know. He seemed to sense something having changed when he looked Eskel in the eye, and Eskel cast his glance down remembering what Geralt had said _“its not exactly considered appropriate by any leap of faith”_. Vesemir looked around carefully taking in the scene and breathing deeply in the crisp fall air of Kaer Morhen’s courtyard. Eskel got the impression he was being sniffed out, in the most literal sense. He realized all to late how true that probably was, it had been too cold to bathe in the mountain stream and they probably smelled like nothing but forktail blood, sweat, and lust to their teacher. Shit.

“Good work boys. A few less draconids to pester us through the winter, means less to breed come spring.” Vesemir sighed oddly, “Now I think perhaps some hot baths are in order before anything else. Afterward you can see to your armor and laundry.”

And then Eskel _knew_ they had been caught out. Vesemir would never place bathing, or eating, or sleeping, or anything else for that matter above caring for dirty armor or cleaning your swords. Sheepishly he left his trophy where he was told and shuffled off to put his pack on his bunk before he made his way to the rooms they used for bathing with a clean set of braies and undershirt.

Water from the spring trickled into that room through a wooden sluice pipe so it was quick work to fill one of the small tubs when Eskel carried a bucket in each hand. Using igni to heat it up he stripped down and stepped in. Washing as efficiently as he could, he tried to rinse away any lingering shame he felt at understanding that his teacher knew now. Geralt had entered the room too and seemed unaffected by what Vesemir’s had noticed about them. Eskel made a point of not looking Geralt’s way. He couldn’t do that right now, he was too worked up over the whole thing, thinking maybe he was wrong to even let it happen. Plus, there were few other witchers bathing in some of the other small tubs that littered the large room. Some young trainees who haven’t even lived or died yet in the Trial of the Grasses, and one older witcher who must have returned a bit early from the Path this year. He left the bathing room still not feeling very clean, but feeling completely exhausted and confused. The high of the hunt totally washed away.

Eskel made his way back to his cot in the dorms and pulled apart the items in his pack. Stowing what he needed too, gathering everything that he needed to wash. Suddenly it all smelled like someone had poured salt into a mud puddle. He knew half if it was dirty with his and Geralt’s dried cum. That was what he was smelling with his enhanced senses, the same way he could smell when someone is aroused or satisfied, but this didn’t smell good to him anymore. It smelled old, tainted, and guilty. It smelled like he should have ignored it all to start with let Geralt apologize that second morning 

Eskel huffed at himself as he carried his pile past the kitchens to the laundry and threw it into a large wooden basin. He got a bucket of water from the well that was dug there centuries ago and dumped it over his pile. He was the only one in the laundry area thankfully so he could let his unhappiness leech out here. He grabbed a bar of lye ash soap and a corrugated washboard and got to work. Methodically Eskel worked the soap into his clothes and the blanket from his hunt, scrubbing it across the ridges of the washboard until his knuckles were red. He was so focused on cleaning away any smell that might linger that he didn’t even note Vesemir entering.

“You boys.” Vesemir looked tired when Eskel startled out of his thoughts and stared at him.

Eskel opened his mouth to say something, before he realized he didn’t even have anything to say and then shut it again, waiting.

“I will not judge you. We are all judged enough, Eskel.” Vesemir was trying to find something to do with his hands and finally settled on crossing his arms. “You have to know though that past these walls, others will judge you harshly. So have your fun, there’s not a lot of variety here, but if this is the path you choose when you leave here, choose carefully.”

Eskel stared at him blankly. The silence in the laundry room drew on. 

"What I am saying is- I don’t care what you two get up to. Others will though. Around here you have no alternatives available to you. So you might… grow out of it… when you leave and meet women. But if you find that you how you feel doesn’t change, be very careful. You’re already being judged for being a witcher, this won’t help.”

“Alright,” is all Eskel can manage to croak out. This is absolutely NOT how he imagined Vesemir reacting. He isn’t sure how he DID imagine Vesemir reacting, because he didn’t think far enough ahead to imagine him finding out, but this is definitely not it.

“Alright. Good.” Vesemir let out a long held breath at Eskel finally saying something, anything. “Now put it out of your mind and don’t let it distract you, you have training to do.” Vesemir turned and left as stealthily as he came. 

Eskel slumped back on his heels, fingers still angrily gripped into the wet braies he’d been washing. He wasn’t sure who or what he was angry at or about though. He let his fingers relax, letting the laundry fall back into the soapy water. Rolling his shoulders to let some tension out he finished up his laundry before wringing it out and hanging it to dry on the lines near the kitchen.

In the kitchens Eskel found some dried fish jerky and bread, then filled a mug with steaming mushroom broth. Lunch had come and gone without him. When Gweld came and asked if he wanted to train swords with him, Eskel agreed readily. It would be good to get this off his mind and train. He was a witcher after all, this was what he was being made for. Vesemir was right, he had training to do.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

Eskel carried on with his training for three more winters, and two more summers. He carried on with Geralt as well. Off and on. Here and there. When the moment struck them. They were as discreet as two young men could be at in a keep full of men and boys. A few people probably caught on. In much the same way that Geralt had overheard others before they had started and gotten the idea they could tumble together as well.

Sometimes Eskel would “forget” to latch his outhouse door early in the morning or late at night, and if Geralt happened to follow him there… Well then Eskel might be persuaded that his friend’s cock looked like it needed a kiss, or maybe more. Eskel had never dreamed he would take another man in his mouth but he found himself very aroused by the act. His own cock would get hard just from licking and sucking at Geralt’s. It was like kissing only so much better, his whole mouth soaking up the sensations, the taste, the smell of Geralt’s arousal so strong in his nose. Knowing that he was the reason Geralt was so aroused, that he was doing that with his mouth, made his own cock twitch. An added benefit was that if he could restrain himself enough to stop before Geralt came, then it left his cock warm and slick enough that Geralt could grab his hips and thrust it between his legs while Eskel stroked himself off. The way the head of Geralt’s cock nudged up and bumped against his balls when they did that drove Eskel wild. It was so much better than playing with them himself.

Other times if they were lucky they might be assigned to go outside the walls together and gather herbs, or clear the mountain path of some creatures that were wandering too close. That afforded them the privacy to lay their bedrolls together again and explore with kisses and languid touches.

 

One of those times had not gone anything like he’d hoped. He’d been in Daevon with Master Cuinn, assisting in a contract that would require more than one set of hands but not unlimited skill. A large group of arachnomorph nests, three to be exact, had cropped up in the farming fields. The contract had gone well and he had been feeling good about getting out of the walls for his first real taste of the battle below the mountains. After getting paid however and on the way out of town his keen hearing had picked up the jab of the local herbalist. 

_“Ploughing arse fuckers, those mutants!”_

_A woman next the the herbalist tittered, “No, Jans, they can’t be! I’ve heard they’re legendary in bed. They wouldn’t be doing that if they could have any woman they wanted!”_

_“It’s true, I tell ya! There ain’t no cunnies up there, their pokin’ it one anothers arse all winter long I say!”_

By then he was out of hearing range. Eskel tried to keep his face neutral. He was raging inside though. Vesemir was right. Others judged harshly.

 “Don’t let it get to you, Eskel,” Cuinn said.

 “But. But-,” Eskel stammered as he balled his fists at his side.

 “They just say the most crass thing they can think of. To see if they can get a reaction. Don’t give it to them.”

 “But it’s not even possible! What they said we do!”

Cuinn laughed out loud, and Eskel was even more angry because now his fellow Wolf was laughing at him too. “Oh, it is most definitely possible. There are men out there that have no interest in women Eskel, how do you think they have sex?” Amusement sparkled in the older witcher’s cat eyes.

“They touch each other and kiss and - uh -” If Eskel could have blushed he’d have been red as a beet, Melitele what was coming out of his mouth? “-uh- I don’t know! How would I know?!”

“Well now you do. They put their dicks in each others arses instead of a pretty cunt.” Cuinn cuffed Eskel on the back of the head and laughed. “Now put it out of your head, they are only saying it to see if they can get a reaction, make you act like the monster they think you are. Don’t give them that satisfaction.”

 

Except he couldn’t put it out of his head. He did for a while, while they rode back to Kaer Morhen, reward and supplies from Ard Carraigh stowed in their packs. Once he was home on his cot at night though he couldn’t let it go. He was one of those men, he highly suspected, that had no interest in women. He felt like he was clearly different from others in ways other than just being a mutant. Were Geralt and him doing it wrong when they got the chances they had? This wasn’t anything they had ever even considered.

So the next time they got sent out together overnight because the draconids were coming too close to the pass again he suggested it to Geralt. In the smoothest voice he could muster he asked if he could try it, and Geralt balked at him. Not exactly at the idea so much, as at him, his size.

“There is no way in all the Gods make green that _that_ is fitting inside of me.” Geralt’s finger pointed accusingly at Eskel’s thickness.

“But it does, he even said that’s what happens. I don’t think he would lie to me.” Eskel wasn’t begging, he wouldn’t force anything Geralt didn’t want to try, he just wanted to make sure Geralt knew that this was really how it worked. This was how it was normally done. Well, as normal as two guys being together could ever be considered.

“You first, if you can fit me, I’ll think about it,” Geralt shot back. 

Eskel’s stomach dropped down to his groin. He hadn’t really thought about that, but it seemed fair enough and he wasn’t turned off by the idea. The exact opposite in fact.

“Okay.” His voice was a bit lower than normal and shaky when he answered.

“Really?!” Geralt seemed surprised that he’d agreed so easily, when he himself hadn’t been willing to.

“Yeah.” Eskel’s mouth was a little dry. “We can just do what we always do, and then I’ll suck you to make you slick first.” He took a heavy breath. “Like when you slide between my legs, only this time it’ll be more.”

“Come here.” Geralt pulled him in close on the bedrolls and started kissing him. Eskel was so aroused by the whole situation he could smell himself already, like salt and leaves and rainwater. This was going to be so good. This wasn’t how he had planned it. He had imagined himself as the giver and Geralt as the taker when he’d gotten himself worked up and coming over the idea. He enjoyed giving people pleasure, enjoyed giving Geralt pleasure. This could work too though.

Eskel let his lips part and his tongue delved in to taste Geralt’s mouth. Geralt’s tongue fought back at him, pushing for entry into his own mouth. Eskel relented, letting Geralt in, enjoying the feel of Geralt’s tongue licking into his mouth. Geralt’s hand slid under his shirt, lifting it up, over his head. He focused on the way Geralt’s sword-roughened palms felt brushing up over his chest, calluses scraping over his nipples making him draw in a deep breath.

“Yea, this is good.” Eskel encouraged Geralt. Eskel was rocking his hips against Geralt, already hard. Geralt brought his hands down to the middle of Eskel’s abdomen and pushed his palms up and over Eskel’s chest again watching him shiver. “Yea.” Eskel’s voice was breathy.

“You gonna put those lips around me?”

“Yea,” Eskel said breathy again. It seemed to be the only word he could manage in his keyed up state. 

He did manage to lower himself down on Geralt’s body. braies pushed down in front and tucked under his sac so that he could touch himself while he sucked on Geralt, he got to work.

“Lift up.” Eskel pulled down Geralt’s shorts, working them off his feet, so that all that remained on his friend was his undershirt and wolf medallion. He really enjoyed kissing Geralt almost anywhere. Eskel kissed the inside of Geralt’s thighs lightly, working slowly up relishing how Geralt’s lean muscles tensed and relaxed under his lips. Near the junction where Geralt’s thigh med his groin Eskel let his mouth open and sucked the tendon standing out there. Geralt let out a throaty moan. Eskel moved on, letting his tongue drag up the side of Geralt’s stiff length until he was giving a sloppy open mouthed kiss to the crown of Geralt’s throbbing hard cock.

“Gods yes.” Geralt let his fingers sift through Eskel’s chestnut locks.

Eskel sunk lower, drawing half his length into his mouth, humming with satisfaction at how good he knew that made Geralt feel. He was alive with sensation right now. The taste of Geralt leaked onto his tongue, salty and almost sweet from having eaten so much fruit lately. The feel of that hot velvet steel in his mouth. It was firm but yielding, and if he pressed his tongue just right against the underside of Geralt’s head it would feel spongy and make Geralt moan loudly. He drew back and then slid all the way down, controlling all his responses as the desire to gag rose up. Eskel inhaled slowly through his nose, the smell of Geralt’s unique musk filling up his senses as he let his mind settle. He relaxed his throat letting Geralt in, his mind willing his body to calm around it. Eskel stayed there for several long moments before easing back and sinking down again. Mind blank, nothing but the feeling of Geralt’s perfect cock in his mouth.

“Ohfuck, Es-”

Eskel pulled back, grinning stupidly. He’d planned on touching himself but he was so into it he forgot.

Geralt was breathing fast. “Did you just meditate on my cock?”

Eskel flopped on his stomach next to Geralt, head resting on his folded arms. “Sort of, I guess.” He was quiet. Geralt rolled up on his side next to him and stroked a hand down Eskel’s spine.

“You’re crazy.”

“Mm not.”

“It’s okay, I like you anyway.” Geralt had found his way over Eskel’s body, using his legs to spread Eskel’s own apart some and settle in between. Geralt placed a kiss on the back of Eskel’s neck. “You sure you want to try this?”

“Gods yes. Come on.” Eskel felt like he was burning up inside. His cock was throbbing trapped between his stomach and the bedroll, his braies pushing up under his balls. He needed relief. He needed Geralt to give it to him. Geralt’s rough hands slid the back of his braies down, smoothing over his cheeks and Eskel moaned involuntarily.

“Lift up for me.” Geralt’s request made Eskel’s belly feel like liquid fire. His ass tilted up into the air and then his braies were coming down his thighs. Geralt shuffles up closer on his knees.

When the head of Geralt’s cock kissed between his cheeks Eskel held his breath. His spit had cooled in the night air and it felt inexplicably strange to have something touching him there. Geralt had one hand on Eskel’s hip and the other in the middle of his shoulder blades.

Eskel felt the pressure building on his most private area. His asshole was tightly clamping down against the thought of intrusion. Geralt leaned forward putting some of his weight behind it and Eskel felt himself give. It hurt. It burned. He slammed his eyes shut and buried his face in his arms, his back heaved under Geralt’s hand as his lungs grappled for air. Geralt could barely be inside him and yet he felt like he’d been impaled, overstretched and his hole spasmed violently trying to close over Geralt.

“You okay?” The concern was evident in Geralt’s voice over the lust.

Eskel couldn’t speak right now, he nodded his head vigorously instead. This was how it was supposed to work. He wasn’t going to ruin it. It would get better, it _had_ to get better. Geralt leaned in again and Eskel sucked air in through his teeth. The burning was crawling up his spine with every inch Geralt sank into him.

“Gods Eskel. Feels.. So good.” Geralt moaned. “So tight.”

 _Feels like fire. Feels so … awful._ Eskel had gone completely soft under himself. He tried to breathe out slowly through his nose and in through his mouth, tried to relax enough to make it feel good, or at least not bad so he could let Geralt enjoy this. Because Geralt clearly did enjoy this. He couldn’t though, the muscles in his back were pulled taught as Geralt started to withdraw and he felt like he was going to be pulled apart. He felt Geralt stop behind him. His hand running up and down Eskel’s stiff back.

“Hey.” Geralt’s voice was concerned again. 

Silence.

“Eskel?”

Eskel just shook his head in answer, still not trusting his voice with not betraying the fact that tears were coming.

Geralt’s hand continued up and down Eskel’s spine, smooth, gentle. Nothing like the tearing feeling in his ass.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not good for you, is it?” Geralt was so soft about asking that Eskel finally felt like he could answer.

“No.” His voice was watery.

He winced as Geralt withdrew the rest of the way. Geralt didn’t push back in though, he scooted down to kiss between Eskel’s shoulder blades where his hand had been. He moved his legs to either side of Eskel’s and squeezed them together, drawing Eskel’s legs closed, hugged by Geralt’s. Geralt draped himself half over Eskel’s back, off to one side, hand running over the exposed side, and it felt like a heavy blanket. Geralt wasn’t light but not as bulky as himself and it felt… good. It was grounding. Helped him settle back into his body, bring his breathing back under control, blink away the wetness in his eyes. He was angry that even in this he was different. But his anger was floating away with Geralt’s slow controlled touches.

“I’ve always liked what we were doing. We don’t need to do this. I’m not going to do that to you again.” Geralt said softly.

“I would never do that to anyone.” Eskel said firmly. He meant it, that was awful. He was glad it was him and not Geralt who had tried it, he’d have never forgiven himself for hurting his friend like that.

“Shhh go to sleep.” Geralt whispered to him lips pressed against the back of his neck.

 

Gods what was wrong with him? He didn’t like women. He thought he liked men, but didn’t like this, and this was apparently a big part of liking men. Society already thought he was a mutated freak and his eyes gave him away wherever he went. Soon enough he’d be leaving Kaer Morhen every year and then he wouldn’t even have Geralt who seemed to be the only one who understood his desires freely. The only one who understood _him_ really.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you feeling bad for Eskel, don't worry he'll figure himself out somewhere in the next 15 chapters, that's what this whole fic is about, right? Kaer Morhen should have sex ed class things might go better!


	3. Out of the Nest and Into the Brothel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel wandered across the street. Eager Thighs. What a name, Eskel thought. No mistaking what was being bought and sold here. Eskel wasn’t really sure what he wanted out of this, other than to prove or disprove something to himself. Something he didn’t want to wait to stumble into on the Path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by the wonderful bookscorpion! Thanks bundles :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Things were different after they left Kaer Morhen that first summer. Eskel strangely hadn’t been nervous at all when he had walked out of the gates. Geralt seemed ready, anticipatory even, like he couldn’t wait to get some fresh sky between him and the last decade of torture the masters had put him through. Gweld said he wasn’t worried at all either but Eskel could smell otherwise. The chemical metallic smell of unease wafting past his nose didn’t lie.

None of them returned unscarred that first winter, but they all returned. Geralt had a new mark on his chest that looked like he had been punctured by the barb of something. Eskel had two deep lines on his forearm where he had been raked by a nekker warrior’s claws. Careless but he would learn to be faster. Gweld had a deep divot where something had bitten into his calf tearing a piece out. It had to have taken a week to heal even with potions. Gweld seemed more confident now that he’d seen what he was facing and lived to tell the tale though.

They gathered with the older witchers as late fall turned into winter and the snows started to blanket the mountains. Sharing pints of ale around the large tables in the main hall of Kaer Morhen in the evening and practicing their forms during the day. Geralt didn’t follow Eskel into the outhouse. The younger recruits were sent out to gather herbs or hunt in the cold if it was needed.

One evening as Eskel was walking on the walls staring out at the cold dark blue sky he heard padded steps barely audible coming up behind him and turned to see Geralt approaching.

“Hey Geralt.” Eskel smiled at him.

“Eskel. Needed to get away from all the-” Geralt extended his hand in an wide gesture over the courtyard and keep below.

Eskel laughed heartily. “Yeah. It’s a bit much after spending seven or eight months walking around by yourself isn’t it?”

“Gods yes it is. Speaking of walking, next spring I am buying a fucking horse,” Geralt declared.

“Kind of expensive,” Eskel raised his eyebrows, though the thought had crossed his mind at least a dozen times this last year.

“I don’t care, I’ll starve myself til I can afford it,” Geralt laughed this time. “I’ll just skip the brothel, eventually I’ll be able to buy one.”

“You visited the brothel?” Eskel asked curiously.

“Um,” Geralt looked almost shy now, “several in fact. Didn’t you?”

“Nah,” Eskel offered as casually as he could muster.

“Why not?” Geralt pushed incredulously.

“What’s the point? Kind of a waste of gold,” Eskel leaned his elbows on the wall looking out. Not really interested in what they have to offer, is what he had wanted to say.

“Sex is never a waste of gold, Eskel,” Geralt clapped him on the back with his hand and it was one of the first times Geralt had touched him since they had been back. The hand withdrew quickly though. “You should give it a try next year my friend, be worth your while to get pleasured by something other than your hand.”

Eskel wanted desperately to say something about how he would enjoy Geralt’s hand. He didn’t though. He could feel something had changed. What had Vesemir said about leaving Kaer Morhen, meeting women, and growing out of it? He felt like Geralt had just grown out of that part of their friendship.

“Well, I’m going to head back in. I’ll consider what you said Geralt.” Eskel gave a half-assed smile as he walked past his friend and down the walls. He was feeling shitty and he knew how to remedy that. There was still lots of ale in the kitchens.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

The next spring when he set off he made a promise to himself that if he met a willing woman he would at least try it. All the older witchers made it sound pretty easy, the ladies fall all over you after you take out the village beast. The ladies would say terrible things to your face. Then when no one is looking, if you were willing to overlook their cruel statements from before they would gladly take you into their bed. They wanted you because your stamina far outlasted their drunken husband’s and Gods knew there was no chance for your seed to take hold.

It wasn’t that easy for Eskel though. For one, most women in these shitty towns weren’t falling all over themselves because Eskel blew up a ghoul nest or killed four drowners. Secondly, Eskel didn’t have much desire for women in general which made it really, really hard to overlook being called a freak of nature when they later thought to proposition him. So no woman ever actually make it to why Eskel was a better option in bed than their husbands.

 

Which led him to Geralt’s suggestion.

 

He managed to secure a pretty decent sized contract for a young witcher just outside of the fortress of Dorndal, a young basilisk was terrorizing the people of the area and the soldiers of the fortress had offered a sizable reward. It was a dangerous contract but Eskel was confident that he could handle it. He had a great grasp on his Signs and Igni alone would be immensely helpful in bringing it down to the ground and then stunning it there defenselessly.

Eskel prepared two grapeshot bombs and made sure to have a vial of golden oriole handy. He headed out to the area it appeared to hunting in. As he deftly made his way around looking for its lair he felt himself settle into that peaceful mode of the hunt he’d come to look forward to. It was one time in his life when he was centered at least. Eskel knew where he was, what he was to do, who he was. A witcher on a contract, helping people in exchange for payment. It felt good, right. This was what he was made to do.

A small bank seemed to overhand the shoreline up ahead at the edge of the fields. Some foliage hung down over it obscuring whatever was under it but Eskel knew. Basilisks liked damp places, especially dark ones. This was its hidey hole surely. Creeping ever closer slowly so as not to cause it to startle Eskel crouched low and downed his golden oriole. He unhooked a grapeshot and lobbed the bomb with perfect accuracy so that it landed and rolled right under the ledge.

When it went off there was a high pitched screech, briefly followed by silence before the green gray creature burst from its den towards him. Blood already flowing from small injuries on its wings and back where the bombs shrapnel had caught it, it started to flap as it neared him, trying to launch up for an aerial attack. Eskel barely had to concentrate to let his igni flow from his left hand causing more damage and bringing it right back down. He thrust his silver sword forward and it found purchase where the wing joined the body, bringing out another loud screech. The basilisk jerked to the side, dragging him with it because he hadn’t gotten his sword dislodged yet, sending him off-balance.

He pulled hard on his sword, gaining it back, but the beast sensed his vulnerability and brought its other clawed wing hard into the side of his leg. The pain bloomed there and he knew his leather leggings hadn’t been enough to hold the blow back. It didn’t matter though because the beast’s beak was bearing down after him as he tumbled onto his back. Sword up in front of him like a pike he was fairly certain it would be enough, the basilisk was badly damaged from the fight already. He left himself keep falling, and the beast followed him down, beak snapping, vocal cords screeching. Louder and louder as it fell onto his sword. Until its screech died off with a gurgle. Eskel had been straining with the effort of holding his sword up with the weight of the basilisk behind it and he rolled the the side as he pushed it the other way so he wouldn’t be trapped.

“Well fuck.” He muttered to himself.

Doing a mental tally his left leg hurt, but not unbearably. He reached down and touched it. His hand came away very much bloody. The leather had been punctured by the large claw and so had his thigh. He struggled to his feet and hobbled to the river. The water swirled brown as he waded up to his waist, but the cold felt good. After he was done rinsing it Eskel back sat on the river bank and downed a swallow to slow his bleeding and heal his flesh. It would still scar, it was a fairly large deep claw mark. The swallow would get him back to the settlement though were his pack was and he could bandage it properly, then it wouldn’t slow him down much. In a few days it would be just another mark of many to come. This contract paid well, he’d walk to Vizima and get a room for a few days, take it easy.

It wasn’t that hard really to put the pain in the back of his mind. He was trained to do it and he did it well. It was nothing compared to the trials. He picked out parts that he wanted to take for potions, then skinned some of the best leather off of the beast, before finally chopping off the head for proof. Basilisk leather was fetching one hell of a price at markets these days. If he could locate a good vendor in Vizima he’d make as much off of that as he did off of the actual contract itself. Back at the fortress he traded the head for his gold, grabbed his pack from where he had stashed it inside the fort, and headed off for a more private place to lick his wounds.

Kicking off his boots and pulling out a bottle of alcohest, a bone needle, and silk thread he set all his supplies on his upturned pack. He grimaced as he pushed his leathers down past his thighs, sucking in a rough breath as the leather pulled away from the wound. He cleaned the area and let it dry while he threaded the needle. Then he proceeded to close the wound, unpleasant but necessary, before wrapping a fresh bandage several times around his thigh to hold it all together. It felt better already, not gaping open and pulling.

Eskel dressed again and put his boots back on. He felt like he could walk better now. He shouldered his pack and decided he would head out today. Make camp along the way, meditating by the fire. He’d feel good by the time he hit Vizima in a day and a half. He still planned to rent a room though.

 

The room in Vizima was rough. He should have known a place called The Hairy Bear would have a mattress as hairy as the name suggested. It was cheap though, and he wanted a horse. He paid ahead for two nights. He noted the brothel across the street but didn’t feel like it was worth it the first night. The food at the inn wasn’t bad at all, sausage and potatoes for dinner. The beer was awful. He decided he’d drink what was in his pack up in his room rather than risk another tankard of that. He was a witcher, immune to most things but that didn’t mean his taste buds couldn’t be offended.

Later, half sitting half lying in the bed in a moderately quiet room, drinking his second bottle of Kaedweni Stout from his pack, he gave himself a gentle squeeze through his shorts before pushing them down. It had been a long time since he’d even bothered. He breathed out a low sigh as he let his hand drift over his cock. It wasn’t hard yet, not fully. It could be though if he kept touching himself there, with the backs of his knuckles bump bump bumping over the tender spot behind the head of it.

Setting his bottle on the nightstand and taking his balls in his hand, a loud sigh escaping his mouth this time. Eskel played with himself, tugging gently and running his thumb up against the base, while he let his other hand drift lightly up and down the length. Cock thrumming as it filled out in his fingers. Eskel wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked, running his thumb and forefinger over the head to tease there. Feeling his own arousal slick his fingers, drawing it back down. Over and over.

Fuck it felt good to touch himself. Eskel sped up, other hand still cradling his sac gently rolling his balls, slightly tugging, thumb still brushing lightly at the base of his cock. Breath coming faster, he knew he was approaching his climax. His thighs trembled as it roared through him. Eskel felt the pull of it in his wound from the day before. It didn’t hurt but it made him aware it was there. He kept stroking himself lazily, light as a feather until he was too oversensitive to take it anymore. Reaching over he grabbed the bottle and drained the rest of his stout. Gods why didn’t he do this more often? When did he stop paying attention to himself like this?

He gave himself a cursory wipe down before he laid down to bed for real. Eskel slept hard that night. The next day he went to the Trade Quarter and found a buyer for the basilisk hide. Then he went to a horse trader and bought what he hoped was a reasonable mount with his combined profits from the contract and hide. He wanted something steady and mellow, that wouldn’t startle easy. He didn’t want to have to axii his damn horse all day. He also didn’t have a fortune though, so he aimed middle of the road. Not the highest quality but calm as the day was long. He bought some Mahakaman Mead so he’d have something drinkable in his room that night and then led his new mount back towards the Temple Quarter and The Hairy Bear.

 

After a decent dinner of fish cakes and greasy fried potatoes Eskel wandered across the street. Eager Thighs. What a name, Eskel thought. No mistaking what was being bought and sold here. Eskel wasn’t really sure what he wanted out of this, other than to prove or disprove something to himself. Something he didn’t want to wait to stumble into on the Path.

The madame was pleasant. Eager as the establishment’s name implied. Eager for his gold at least.

“We’re not picky about the type around here, sir, long as you’ve got the coin,” she stated straightforwardly.

“Okay.” Eskel was not even sure how this conversation was supposed to go.

“Name’s Darla. What’s yours, witcher?”

“Um, Eskel.”

“Would you like to talk to the girls, or shall I make a recommendation for you? Price is the same. Twenty orens for an hour.” Darla looked at him wisely. He felt like she knew, but he knew better. She smelled nothing more than greedy and tired. He didn’t want to talk to all these women. He looked about the sparsely furnished lower floor. Girls lounged in plain wooden chairs at plain wooden tables, playing dice, talking.

“You choose.”

“Twenty orens then sir.” Eskel counted out the proper amount and handed it to her.

“Aldith!” She called out briskly across the room to a woman older than Eskel, probably by a decade. “You’ve a man!”

Aldith looked up black hair shining long around her shoulders as she stood and walked towards them. She was tall, average build, not too thin, which Eskel guessed was good, part of what he found unattractive about women was that he felt like he would break them. They were always so small compared to him. She had plain steel bangles on her wrists, and wore a pair of the shortest beige shorts he’d ever seen and obviously nothing under her dark green plain bodice. Her skin was the color of cherry wood, clearly visible from her bare feet up her long legs to the tops of her thighs where the shorts began. Women didn’t even wear shorts in public. And certainly not shorts like that.

“Aldith will show you a good time.” Darla said.

“I promise.” Aldith’s voice was smokey and low. She held out her hand and the bangles clinked together.

Eskel had to admit that voice was attractive. He allowed himself to be led up the the second floor, into a room, and pushed over onto a bed. Before he even registered what was happening Aldith had straddled his lap and was unbuckling his armor. He closed his eyes and let it happen. Breathing evenly and paying attention to the feel of someone else’s hands moving over his body. His boots being pulled off, his shirt being shoved up, his laces being pulled at. A hand slipped inside his leathers behind the loose laces, over his shorts and cupped him. It was too delicate. Too small. It rubbed over his cock, and teased, which he liked but it didn’t make him stiffen. He sighed. The hand went away. His leathers were being pulled at and he lifted his ass, even though he could already tell this wasn’t going to work.

Eskel was straddled again, Aldith rubbing herself over his soft cock. He felt her hair tickle his chest as she leaned forward and took his hand. She guided it and he felt the smooth curve of her breast resting against his palm. Aldith’s taut nipple nestled in the joins between his fingers. Eskel swallowed. The frustration was building to a headache behind his eyes.

“Hmm this really doesn’t do it for you does it?” Aldith’s voice was still as smoky and roughly worn as it had been downstairs. She didn’t even sound disappointed. Probably because she was paid either way.

“I’m sorry.” Eskel opened his eyes and looked up at her dangling over him. Hand still held to her tit. He was getting ready to ask her to get up so he could leave when she dropped the hand holding it there to the bed beside his head and leaned forward over him kissing him on the forehead laughing.

“Oh honey.” Aldith smoothed the hair away from Eskel’s eyes. “I get it I do. Not everyone is the same.” She rolled off of him and lie next to him on the bed. Walking her fingers across his chest she asked, “So what is it then, do you like to be slapped around? Do the slapping?”

“WHAT?! NO!” Eskel was horrified, but Aldith was still just smiling at him, watching him for a reaction. “No. Nothing like that.”

“So it’s men, then.” She guessed knowingly and Eskel’s cock twitched at the thought as she walked her fingers another step across his chest. He stayed silent, cursing his body for giving him away. “We can work with that.”

Now it was Eskel’s turn to laugh, but his laugh came out sickly. “I don’t think we can.”

“Of course we can.” Aldith nestled up against his side and her voice was right by his ear now, low and rough, as she scratched her nails lightly over his nipple. “So tell me Eskel, do you like it when a man pushes your legs open wide and slides his big cock into your ass?”

Fuck. Any progress his dick thought it had made was being lost. “No.” He breathed out and closed his eyes.

“Mmm the other way then?” Her fingernails were circling his nipple now.

“Not, not exactly.”

“But you like a man’s cock.” She said surely returning to scraping over the nipple. His own cock twitched at the statement in answer for him. “Yes, you do. Do you like it in your mouth? Filling you up?” Gods that voice was good and he did enjoy Geralt’s cock on his tongue, in his mouth, down his throat. As he thought about it his own cock thrummed and filled.

“Oooh, that’s the thing then.” She pinched his nipple and he sucked in a breath. She returned to circling. He was definitely getting hard now. “What do you like about a man’s hard cock in your mouth Eskel? Is it the way it feels, soft and hard at the same time, thick against your tongue? Or is it the way it tastes? So salty and tangy.”

“Fuck.” Eskel was actually aroused, really aroused. “Both. Wish I had one right now.”

“I bet you do.” The laugh that rumbled out of Aldith was deep for a woman and Eskel liked that. “Why don’t you touch yourself? Show me how you like it.”

Eskel was more than okay with that right now. He’d never jacked off in front of anyone but his best friend but this was fine, this was great. As long as she kept talking about him sucking cock he’d go right ahead with anything else she had in mind. He reached down began to tease himself, light fingers over his length. He took himself loosely in hand and stroked, running his thumb over the slit on the head. His breath came raggedly at the sensation of that, feeling the precum that was building there, swirling it around the crown. He let his hand tighten up a fraction and shuddered.

“Do you touch yourself when you suck a cock Eskel?”

“Sometimes.”

“Open your mouth.”

Eskel let his jaw fall open and then two of her fingers where in his mouth and he closed around them automatically. He wasn’t sure when she’d stopped teasing his nipple but those two fingers were now sliding in and out of his mouth only a fraction and he didn’t care about his nipple at all anymore. This was doing something for him. A lot of something.

“There you go.” Her voice sounded deeply pleased. He was speeding up and then his other hand was joining in to tug at his sac because it was good, so good.

“Suck me while you touch yourself.” Her fingers pushed deep, he felt himself relax his mind and his throat. He wanted it, he wanted this. Another finger was pressing at his lips and he let it in. His lips tingled and his groin had that warm icy feeling that he knew meant he was so close. The hand on his balls traveled up to press his fingers on the bulging vein at the base of his cock, and he moved his other hand steadily up and down. He sucked greedily at the three fingers sliding in and out of his mouth, saliva coating his lips.

“I wish I could cum down your throat.” Aldith whispered huskily and Eskel’s release painted his chest. Caught completely off guard he felt his cock pulse and throb under his fingers, jerking hard. His vision blurry. Aldith’s fingers left his mouth and she shushed him as gasped for breath.

“Oh my fucking Gods.” Was all Eskel could manage when he could finally talk again.

“I promised I’d show you a good time.” Aldith giggled as she got up off the bed and found her tiny shorts to put on, boobs flashing in the air as she ran her fingers through her hair to untangle it.

Eskel was dazed. He’d actually done it. He’d gotten off with a woman. He wasn’t entirely sure Aldith counted as a real woman, she was clearly some strange womanly sex demon hybrid. He laughed at himself.

“That was amazing.”

“Come back anytime you can’t find yourself a proper man. You’ve got yet to gather your things and dress before you run sheepishly off.” Aldith was pulling her bodice over her head. She shot him a knowing smile before slipping out the door.

Damn if she wasn’t right though. He tried not to be too sheepish in leaving. Until Darla waved at him.

“Come back anytime witcher. Aldith says you were fun!” Then he was moving fast for the door, and hoofing it across the street to his room and the mead in his pack. He still might go back once more before he left town though. Twenty orens wasn’t a waste of gold.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are very motivating feel free to leave one!


	4. Far From Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel does something he knows he will regret. Then he goes far from home to avoid dealing with that regret. While away from the mainland he learns plenty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my LOVELY beta bookscorpion who is patient with all my late-night writing rambles. You are such a great help!
> 
> Also prepare yourself for some angst. But smut! There is lots of hot smut too!

Eskel’s fourth summer on the Path dragged on. Spring had come early that year. He and Geralt had set out earlier than some of the others when the snow had started to melt for real. They traveled together for a while down the Gwenllech and Buina rivers, through the Kestrel mountains. Minor contracts sustained them along the way, assisting farmers who were averse to burying their dead with their ghoul problems in the aftermath. Drowners. Always drowners. A single arachnomorph nest during which he forced to remember that the spider-like monsters the size of a goat were one of Geralt’s least favorite prey. Geralt kept his head about him, calm as always but he’d bitched the entire time out loud. It wasn’t like his best friend to so openly show any kind of emotion during a battle. Even if it was annoyance.

In Crinfrid they found a notice on the board for a contract that would definitely require them both and pay well enough to justify it. A wealthy cowherd’s house on the outside of town had been covered by a dense fog. It seemed that several people wanted to talk to this gentleman. They thought that he was hiding behind the fog and were not able to get through it to get to him without being assaulted by specters. So they had pooled their great resources to hire someone to either extract the man or disperse the fog.

Running through their mental list of possibilities it seemed unlikely that the cowherd was also a mage who’d conjured this to protect himself and more likely that he was guilty criminal who owed people money. Guilty conscious plus fog and specters led Geralt to believe it was a penitent and Eskel tended to agree with his friend.

After meeting with the three men who’d posted the notice and haggling up their fee a bit they got to work. Just getting to the house was no easy feat, with Eskel throwing down Yrden every twenty feet and both him and Geralt fighting down the specters as they rose again and again. Their furious pounding on the door was answered though. Not by the man but his wife. The man was huddled in the corner shaking with fear, swearing at her that she was letting the specters in to get him.

 

One long ugly talk later, they knew what they needed to free the house from its haunts and the man seemed grudgingly willing to comply. Even if it meant making good on his debts. Eskel was glad he had Geralt’s assistance too because the fight was not easy. He was sore, and keyed up at the end. Eskel wanted nothing more than a hot meal and a soft bed. Which this contract was about to acquire him. The man they freed was shortly greeted by his debt collectors.

While Eskel was gathering their pay he saw Geralt out of the corner of his eye talking to the man’s wife. He could overhear her telling Geralt how thankful she was that they had saved her, that all their money would go the men her husband owed debts to, but that she knew witchers didn’t work for free.

_“Perhaps there was some other way I could offer my thanks?” The man’s wife insinuated._

_Melitele Geralt, seriously?_ Eskel thought to himself.

_“You should see to my friend first,” he heard Geralt say, it sounded like Geralt was smiling._

_Fuck no._ Eskel sorted the coins in half, putting half in his own pouch. Without really looking over he threw the remaining pouch to Geralt by the house. “I’m good,” he stated loudly in Geralt’s general direction as Geralt caught his own coin. _Leave me out of this._ “I’ll rent us a room in town. See you when you get there.”

Geralt gave him a slow puzzled look. Almost hurt. Eskel was already calling his horse though. Swinging up and riding off towards Crinfrid at what he hoped was a reasonable pace that didn’t show his utter and complete frustration. He did rent a room at the inn. One with two single beds. He ate a decent meal with his money, drank a little too much beer even for a witcher, and didn’t bother to take his armor off when he fell into one of the beds to sleep it off.

 

He was startled awake by movement on his bed, and just as fast as he could reach for his sword a strong hand caught his wrist. The mattress sank considerably as Geralt settled in behind him, arm winding around Eskel’s waist taking his wrist with it and pulling him up snug against himself. There was only the slightest moment of hesitation before Geralt buried his nose in the back of Eskel’s neck at the base of his hair and inhaled deeply.

Mind at war with his body, Eskel was caught between melting into Geralt’s comforting grip, and telling him to get the hell out his bed. They hadn’t touched like this in three or four years. Geralt had grown out of it. Just like today had shown. Unlike Eskel, Geralt had an interest in women.

Still wrestling in his head, laying stiffly in Geralt’s arm, Eskel let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in.

“MmHmm. Relax for me.” Geralt’s voice was far too husky in his ear.

“Geralt. You-”

“Quiet.” Geralt interrupted him, “Let me do this for you.” His voice was soothing and smooth, like well worn leather.

“You don’t have to, though.” Eskel protested, but his body was already giving in for him. He was sinking back against Geralt, letting his head roll to the side to offer up more of his neck. Briefly Eskel wished he hadn’t worn all his armor to bed.

“I know I don’t have to.” Geralt sounded wounded, “I want to, Eskel. I didn’t realize you had no interest in women. That has to be hard, and you can’t exactly find what you want safely out here. I want to help you feel good.” There was a long pause before Geralt let his hand splay out over Eskel’s abdomen, freeing his wrist. “Please, Eskel?” Geralt’s voice had gone back to husky in his ear as he asked Eskel’s permission to continue, and it made Eskel’s stomach tie in knots.

“Yea,” Eskel managed to whisper softly, “Fuck I am gonna regret this.”

Geralt’s lips curved into a smile against his neck as he replied, “You never regret me.”

It became obvious to Eskel that Geralt still held some passion for him when Geralt’s hand pressed low against his abdomen, holding him there as Geralt pressed his hips up into Eskel. Geralt may not have been fully hard yet, but his body wasn’t uninterested in the situation either. A soft sigh escaped Eskel’s lips at that knowledge. He’d missed this feeling of closeness and comfort so much. Being touched by someone who knew him felt so good, like balm on his soul.

Geralt’s other arm worked its way under his neck, with Eskel lifting to make room. He let Geralt’s arm cradle his head. Geralt’s other hand was making fast work of the buckles on the front of his Wolven chest armor, pulling it open, pulling up the undershirt below it. Geralt’s sword-worn hand on his bare skin was electrifying. Skin alive with goose bumps, the sensation traveled straight to Eskel’s groin. When Geralt’s hand moved down and those strong fingers splayed out over the front of his leathers to gently squeeze his rapidly thickening cock, thumb tucked inside the edge of his leathers to tease his skin, Eskel couldn’t help himself anymore. A loud groan escaped his lips.

“Shhh,” Geralt hushed him, breath hot in Eskel’s ear, “Don’t want to be heard.”

The arm under Eskel’s head came across in front of him, slipping under his open armor to grab his shoulder, firmly anchoring Eskel back against Geralt’s chest. When Geralt squeezed his cock through his leathers again Eskel bent his head and stifled his moan on Geralt’s well muscled forearm, biting into it slightly. He was rewarded by soft swearing in his ear and an aborted thrust of Geralt’s hips against his ass. Geralt’s lips and teeth found smooth skin on the side of Eskel’s neck and Geralt nipped and sucked there, working up a dusky red mark that wouldn’t last past morning as his fingers worked the laces of Eskel’s leathers open.

Having given up all pretense that he didn’t desperately need this, Eskel let his hand cover Geralt’s and guide it inside his braies. Frantic noises still subdued by his mouth being latched onto Geralt’s forearm, Eskel had no desire to let it loose anytime soon. He hadn’t been touched by another in well over a year and his whole body ached for it. Eskel thrust his hips against Geralt’s warm hand as it palmed his cock. He breathed deeply just to feel Geralt’s arm around his chest as it restrained him, holding him together, keeping him from flying apart.

Geralt removed his hand much to Eskel’s dismay. But Eskel’s distress was short lived. Eskel’s braies were being pushed down, along with his leathers, so that they both sat low on his hips. Then Geralt’s hand returned to tease at his cock. Eskel brought his hand to join Geralt’s again, letting his fingers play gently along with Geralt’s own as they both teased up and down the length of his stiff cock.

Eskel’s breathing stuttered along with his hips at the tortuously slow play of fingertips over the head of his cock. He was leaking freely, and throbbing madly. Geralt’s thumb rolled over his slit and his mouth popped free of Geralt’s arm. Eskel cried out silently, squeezing his eyes shut. It was almost overwhelming when Geralt finally wrapped his hand around Eskel’s thick shaft. Geralt pumped it slowly, perpetually, in a steady rhythm that soon had Eskel feeling mindless. It was all Eskel could do to thrust in time, rocking his hips to slide his aching cock through Geralt’s warm hand, now slick with his own precum.

His silent cries gained volume as he got closer and closer to losing himself in Geralt’s hands. And when he thought he couldn’t possibly take any more the hand on his shoulder moved to cover his mouth, quieting his hoarse voice once again. Geralt picked up his speed, and Eskel drew his breaths in roughly through his nose.

“Please Eskel,” it was a simple phrase, really, that Geralt whispered gruffly in his ear, “I want you to let go for me.” But it wrecked Eskel inside and out. He came so hard he felt it pull deep inside himself. His seed splattered his abdomen, his rucked up shirt, his armor, and then more dribbled out over Geralt’s hand with the next strong spasm. His mind felt empty, blissfully so.

Geralt’s hand stayed, warm on his softening cock, cradling him. The other hand retreated from where it had been clasped over his mouth, back to pressing his shoulder into Geralt’s chest. With his eyes already closed, Eskel had drifted off into a peaceful sleep within minutes of his orgasm.

 

“Wish it was always so easy to be with you.” Geralt’s voice wasn’t even a whisper, and Eskel didn’t stir.

 

When he did wake, Eskel knew it was early. Far before dawn even. Eskel knew by the empty feeling behind him that Geralt had managed to withdraw himself from the bed without waking him. He felt empty at the thought that Geralt hadn’t even stayed with him the whole night, but he knew better. Eskel had known he would regret letting Geralt back into his bed the moment he did. They didn’t do those things anymore and Eskel was a fool to think otherwise. Geralt had taken pity on him and nothing more. And Eskel had been right, the regret was real and a force to be reckoned with.

He was covered by a warm blanket, which smelled of Geralt. That only made him feel worse. Geralt couldn’t bring himself to lay beside Eskel all night instead putting his own blanket over him. _Could have just left me, I wouldn’t freeze_ , Eskel thought to himself as he turned over and looked around.

And there was Geralt. Curled on the other bed in fetal position, his back to the room, with the inn’s thin blanket pulled up over his shoulders. He was still wearing all his armor if Eskel had to guess based on all the lumps and bumps under the blanket. The pressure was building behind Eskel’s eyes again, a headache beginning to form. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t face Geralt’s pity in the light of day. Not right now. In a few months maybe, come winter when Geralt had forgotten, surely. But not just yet. Eskel needed space, a lot of it. Geralt was his best friend and not worth losing over this.

He sat up quietly, folding the blanket and placing it at the foot of the bed. He was still wearing all of his armor though everything from the waist up was soiled now. He stood, tucked himself back into his braies then laced his leathers quietly. Silently Eskel dipped the washcloth into the water pitcher next to the bowl on the vanity. Doing his best he cleaned away the worst of the dried cum from his armor. He grabbed his swords and his pack and walked out the door without looking back.

He paused at the bar to leave a message and a coin with the innkeep to make sure it would get passed along. He wanted Geralt to know he’d gone south on the Path and that he would see him come winter at the latest, earlier if fate willed it. He didn’t say where exactly he was headed though. Because he didn’t want to be followed, but mainly because he didn’t even know yet. He only knew that he needed to not be here when Geralt woke up in the morning. He knew he needed to not hear how this could never happen again. How it had only been because Geralt knew he was so lonely.

Eskel changed into a clean shirt in the stable, buckled his armor back up and donned his swords. Then he saddled up and headed south.

 

In the room upstairs Geralt was still curled into fetal position, golden cat eyes staring blankly at the wall. Eskel had left without a word.

 

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

 

Eskel rode south through Redania aimlessly. Small contracts kept him fed and his swords in good enough repair. Eventually he ran into the Pontar river around Rinde. There Eskel turned toward the sea, having finally found some direction in his head. He’d decided the farthest he could reasonably get away from Geralt were the Skellige Isles.

Eskel made his way to the free city of Novigrad. It was huge, bustling with life and energy. There were multiple markets, selling anything and everything. The notice boards were pitifully empty though. Aside from a few calls to help clean out the sewers there didn’t appear to be much work for a witcher in such a large town, the only exception being someone who wanted a ghost kicked out of the house they’d inherited. It seemed dear old dad hadn’t quite been ready to move on yet.

Knowing that he would need coin for the voyage Eskel set about contacting all the notices, even though sewer jobs, gold was gold. The young man who had inherited the house was eager to pay Eskel to put his father to eternal rest. He had a wife with a child on the way and they were in no condition to continue staying in a camp outside the city walls after traveling so far only to find the house uninhabitable.

 

Eskel started his work there, entering the average looking two story house between the Tretogar and Oxenfurt Gates. He didn’t make it far before he was set upon by the wraith. Of course when he swung at it with his sword it would merely become ethereal and mist away to another room. Eskel would have to make ample use of his Yrden sign if he wanted to get anywhere soon with this contract. He continued through the house, the whole place smelled of musty mildew. Too much rain and not enough fresh air. Eskel finally encountered the eerie green glow of the wraith’s lantern on the second floor just past the stairs. Throwing down Yrden he waited for it to come towards him and become entangled in the magic. When the wraith entered the purple circle and began to struggle with it Eskel jumped forward and began to slice into it. After only a few strokes it broke free and was invisible again. Eskel dropped another trap and waited but the wraith didn’t return to attack him. The purple circle around him faded and blinked out of existence, leaving the faint smell of ozone behind. He moved forward into the next room, placing his Yrden on the floor as soon as he entered. The angry wraith was there and moving at him with great speed, uncaring or unable to see the trap that was laid. Eskel struck quickly again before the wraith had time to break free of the sign. This time it was enough, combined with the damage from before to bring it down. There were no sounds left in the townhouse then, only sinking silence.

In the pile of ash that remained after the wraith was defeat Eskel noticed a glimmer. Closer inspection revealed it to be an ornate silver hair barrette. Thinking that this might be a clue as to why the father had remained here and unsettled Eskel slipped it in his potion bag to talk to the son about. Then he turned his attention to completing at least one of the two sewer contracts he had gotten a hold of.

Drowners and waterhags fortunately never changed. Necrophage oil and his trusty Igni sign had never failed Eskel there. He ended up making quick work of both contracts before dinner time. He met back up with the son at The Nowhere Inn and after acquiring himself a bowl of fish chowder and a hard roll, proceeded to show him the silver hair decoration.

“Look familiar at all?” Eskel asked while he waited for his chowder to cool.

“It’s, it was my mothers. She lost it a long time ago,” the young man seemed perplexed.

“Well I wouldn’t look too hard at how she ‘lost’ it, likely that is what made your father feel so guilty that he hung around,” Eskel stated matter of factly. It wasn’t his place to dig into family drama, it was his job to make sure the dead stayed that way. “I would recommend putting it back where it belongs to keep his spirit at peace, is all.”

“Thank you, Master Witcher.”

Eskel only nodded in agreement that the man was welcome and pocketed the proffered bag of coins. He didn’t insult the man by counting them in front of him. He headed out and spent the night in the fields east of the city with his horse staked nearby and a comfy fire by his bedroll, tomorrow he’d turn in the drowner and hag heads. Then he’d have the money to secure passage to a place where he was sure not to bump into any old friends.

 

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

 

The cliffs at Kaer Trolde were massive. Sheer monoliths of stone shooting up hundreds feet in the air. Eskel had never seen anything like it before, and he stood entranced on the ship deck as it sailed into the narrow harbor. The smell of seawater, salted cod, and dried kelp invaded his nostrils. And it felt good. It was so far from home, he would have a chance to truly clear his head, Eskel could already feel his mind easing.

Disembarking, he followed his routine of leading his horse to the message board and looking it over. Now here was work! Eskel would have his choice of contracts from the looks of things, it didn’t appear that any witchers made a regular round here. He chose one easy looking item in Kaer Trolde and a notice for a more in depth but much higher paying job Fayrlund halfway across the main isle. Eskel set about the local contract quickly to get some gold back in his pocket after the voyage, then headed off to see what Fayrlund had in store for him.

 

And gods what it did. The contract was doable, difficult but doable. With the leshen’s head on his hook Eskel rode back to town and to the local head man’s house. Eskel wasn’t any worse for the wear, short of some bumps and bruises, and some serious stiffness from being thrown around like a ragdoll. His silver sword had a decent chip in the blade that would need to be ground out though. So immediately after collecting his properly hefty coin purse he strode in the direction of the town blacksmith. Along the way people who saw him either looked away and went about their business or thanked him outright. The leshen had been holding this community in terror for a while it seemed, and since it didn’t appear witchers walked the Path here often it hadn’t been dealt with. The local druids methodology had always been to make a pack with any leshen, following its strictly imposed rules to avoid death and bloodshed. Even if those rules resulted in death by illness, hunger, and aversion. It was a little different to not have slurs cast his way. To be either left alone or actually spoken to with some small regard. No one in Skellige had actually spit at him yet and that was refreshing.

When he arrived at the blacksmith it was no different. The man looked him up and down appraisingly, noted his cat-like eyes, and then greeted him as a worthy customer, one who happened to have cleared the town of its woe.

“Name’s Kealan, you ‘ave our thanks fer yer work, what can I do fer ya Master Witcher?” Kealan was a lean and lithe man who looked to be in or near his third decade of a life well lived. Eskel took an immediate liking to him, if only for the fact that he talked to him with directness and thanked him for his _work_. Understanding that killing monsters was his job went a long way with Eskel.

“Call me Eskel. My sword is damaged, I’ll need it repaired before I can take any new contracts on. I was hoping you could take care of it for me before I leave town,” Eskel explained.

“Lemme see it,” Kealan took the sword from Eskel when he unsheathed it. “Silver huh, this’ll take me a bit. I can do ‘er though, come back late evening an’ I should be done.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’ll see about getting a room and staying an extra night then,” Eskel said planning out loud. He didn’t mind staying one more night to get his blade fixed right. He didn’t have a new contract yet anyway.

“Bah. Don’ bother buying a room. You can stay with me fer free, I’ve plenty of room. As I said, you’ve our thanks for your work.” Kealan looked honest enough when he said it, still Eskel hesitated. He’d never been offered a free stay anywhere, a stay in direct exchange for work yes, but not out of gratitude.

“Alright.” Eskel replied slowly.

“Good, see ya late this evenin’ then.” Kealan took the sword and immediately went to work around his stall as though the offer was nothing. Skellige was mystifying Eskel decided. The people were rough and tumble, yet very open and caring. Come across the wrong way and you’d be gutted, yet they were more thankful than those on the Continent and he’d barely been here.

 

Eskel decided he’d play it safe without his silver sword and stuck close to the road gathering herbs, letting his mare graze just outside of town. Around dinner he went to the inn and purchased a plate of bear sausage and roasted potatoes dripping with grease that tasted better than it had any right too. He washed it all down with a strong Skelliger Stout and a few shots of good pepper vodka. Eskel paid the stable boy for some hay and a night in a stall for his horse. When he left the inn Eskel was feeling rather pleased with himself. As he walked along the muddy main road the blacksmith’s sign came into view. Eskel didn’t hear the ping of the hammer and didn’t see Kealan at work outside so he approached the door and rapped lightly on it.

Kealan answered the door promptly and invited him right in. It was pleasantly warm inside, making Eskel a little too warm in his armor. Gesturing to the table Kealan went to fetch something while Eskel took the offered seat. When Kealan returned Eskel’s sword was laid on the table in front of him without a word and Kealan walked off again, this time in the direction of the little home’s kitchen. He returned and set down a mug of fresh beer in front of Eskel as Eskel was inspecting the handiwork on his sword. He couldn’t even tell where the chip had been, though he knew it had been there.

Kealan sat down opposite Eskel and took a long drink from his own mug. Watching Eskel carefully as his fingers glided over the smooth blade.

“Beautiful work. How much do I owe you?” Eskel asked without looking up from his sword.

“Twenty-five gold.” Kealan stated his price plainly. Work for money, just like Eskel’s contracts, and Eskel liked that about him. He was already giving Eskel a free room, and he didn’t think it would have sat well with him if the man had offered this service free.

Eskel reached for his coin purse and counted out the proper amount, pushing the small pile towards Kealan on the table. Sheathing his sword made Eskel keenly aware that he was still wearing his swords, and his armor, and he was overly warm. He decided at the least he was safe in removing his sword belt and letting his swords lean against the table as Kealan scooped up his pay and put it away. They talked for a while. About blacksmithing and how Kealan had come into it, it was his uncle’s trade, and after his father had been killed on a hunt when he was a boy his mother had sent Kealan to train with his uncle. Learning a trade while working as the shop rat in exchange for food and board his mother couldn’t have afforded otherwise. Kealan didn’t ask about how Eskel became a witcher, even in Skellige those stories were too well known.

Eventually the beers were empty and the sky outside the dull windows had fallen dark. Eskel had undone the buckles on the front of his armor in the heat. It had been pleasant to talk with someone for an evening who wasn’t judging him for his eyes and his work, but it was late and Eskel wanted to set out early in the morning.

“You said you had an extra bed?” Eskel asked curiously. He hadn’t seen anything of Kealan’s tiny abode except this dining/living area and the open kitchen which was connected to it.

“Aye, I do,” Kealan had a peculiar glint in his eye as he stood to take both empty tankards. Eskel stood and followed him into the open kitchen. Putting the tankards on the counter behind himself he turned, leaning on the counter, looking Eskel directly in the eyes and continued, “I’ve the spare bed or I’ve my bed, whichever you prefer.”

Eskel almost tripped over a stray floorboard. Eyebrows inching towards his chestnut hair, jaw slack with disbelief he managed to recover his balance.

“Excuse me?” Eskel wheezed out, unable to hide the terrified shock in his voice. He had to have misheard, or misunderstood surely.

“Ya heard me right. Ya dinnae owe me anything, if you’ve no interest. I offered ya a free place to sleep and that still stands. ‘Course I was hopin’ you’d have an interest in me,” a broad smile spread over Kealan’s face as Eskel still stood there dumbfounded.

Eskel was running through twenty scenarios in his head, was this a trick? What did Kealan want from him? Were people about to come in the door and run him out of town if he said yes? Eskel didn’t really register Kealan reaching out until he felt the rough fingers slip just inside the front edge of his leathers, and then he was too frozen to do anything anyway. Kealen tugged the leather pulling Eskel towards him, and Eskel went without a struggle, heart running away in his chest like a wild horse. Fear that this wasn’t real kept Eskel from getting aroused, even when his hips bumped into Kealan’s pinning them against the wooden counter.

Kealan must have sensed his hesitation was from fear or inexperience rather than disinterest. Or perhaps he just took the fact that Eskel hadn’t punched him and walked out yet as a sign to keep trying. Eskel didn’t know but he was glad Kealan was pushing his luck because Eskel had never been willing to. Kealen let his legs fall open so Eskel’s hips settled in the valley of his hips nicely and Eskel became suddenly aware that Kealan wasn’t playing a trick on him because the hardness pressing back at him was very real. A quiet sigh fell from Eskel’s lips and a not so quiet moan from Kealan’s.

“Okay, I’m-” Eskel swallowed, “I’m very interested.” Eskel let out a shaky breath just as Kealan caught his mouth in a kiss. It was hot and filthy, Kealan’s tongue invading his mouth almost immediately, then retreating out to plunge back in and take more. The kiss was almost starting to overwhelm Eskel when he found himself pushed back away from Kealan by a hand in the middle of his chest.

“Well about time ya decided. I was beginin’ to think ya were one o’ those who wouldnae ever admit it,” there was a rumble of laughter to Kealan’s voice now as he pushed off the counter and walked toward the door in the kitchen.

Eskel took a moment to evaluate Kealan in a whole different light as he walked to the door and Eskel grabbed his sword belt and followed. Kealan was only a few inches shorter than Eskel and though his body was lean it was all corded muscle. His shoulders were more slender than most even with the well-built muscle from blacksmithing. His ass was firm and well rounded underneath his trousers, begging Eskel to grab it. On top of Kealan’s head was a mop of shaggy uncut hair that shone like burnished copper.

As they entered the bedroom Kealan peeled off his shirt and turned to face Eskel with a grin, “Yer wearin’ too much armor to get in my bed witcher.”

Eskel leaned his swords up against the dresser at the foot of the bed and divested himself of his gloves and the chest armor he’d been wanting to all evening anyway. Eskel stared at Kealan’s perfectly defined abs as they rippled when he sat on the bed to remove his shoes. Leaning on the bedpost Eskel worked his own boots off and swiftly pulled his shirt over his head. Somehow Kealan already has his trousers and braies pooled at his feet. The sight of him naked, hard cock curving up out of copper curls to meet those glorious abs made Eskel pause, completely losing sight of what he was doing. Eskel stood hand still leaning on the bedpost naked except for his leathers and braies, staring at where the head of Kealan’s cock crested out of his foreskin to kiss his stomach.

“Witcher,” Kealan’s voice broke through his paralysis, deep and rough. Kealan reached out and pulled at the red laces on Eskel’s leathers letting them fall open. A deep breath rumbled in and out of Eskel’s chest when Kealan’s hand fit over the bulge in his exposed braies. Kealan leaned forward to mouth over the head of his cock through the linen.

“Shit. That’s-” Eskel started only to be cut off.

“-Mmm hmm,” Kealan hummed in affirmation against Eskel’s cock. The vibration sang down Eskel’s cock and settled in his balls, drawing him up on his tip toes.

“Oh. Okay. Too…too many clothes.” Eskel had a desperate need to be naked. Now. To feel this man’s cock slide along his. Kealan obliged by curling his rough fingers into the waist of Eskel’s leathers and braies, sliding both down his hips at once as he pulled his mouth away from the wet spot he’d made on the front of Eskel’s braies. Kealan immediately recaptured Eskels cock in his mouth, taking him down as he pushed the leathers down past his knees.

“Fuck!” Eskel swore when his cock was unexpectedly swallowed by the heat of Kealan’s mouth. Letting go of the bedpost he sank both hands into that copper hair and gave a shallow thrust. Risking a look down, lust coiled in his belly at the sight before him. Kealan looking up at him with glassy green eyes, cock buried in his mouth, lips stretched thin around Eskel’s thick shaft. Kealen drew back and sank forward again, his hands on Eskel’s hips urging him to move with him. Eskel grunted and with a punched out breath let his hips roll a little, gasping when it caused Kealan to moan around his cock. Eskel threaded his hands loosely through Kealan’s hair over and over as they found a steady rhythm. All too fast Eskel felt his balls drawing up from the vibrations Kealan’s moans sent down his cock.

“I’m close,” Eskel managed to get out. But Kealan didn’t stop or pull off. If anything it felt like he redoubled his efforts, swallowing around Eskel and flicking his tongue along the thick vein that ran along the underside of his shaft. Squeezing Eskel’s ass in his hands. Eskel couldn’t stop the spasm that started in his balls and rocked his hips forward, the heat and wetness of Kealan swallowing around him sending him over the edge. The base of his cock stuttered against Kealan’s lips, hands still tangled in that mop of hair, as he emptied himself down Kealan’s throat. Lost in his pleasure it took Eskel a moment to realize he was still holding Kealan against himself, softening cock still warm inside his mouth, laying on Kealan’s tongue. Kealan didn’t look upset though, his glassy eyes looked pleased with himself. Still as Eskel pulled back he apologized, feeling like he’d taken some advantage.

“Sorry, I tried to warn you,” Eskel said sheepishly as Kealan allowed himself to fall backward onto the bed still naked and hard. Kealan’s cock was now leaking against his abs and it bounced lightly as he laughed.

“You’ve nothing ta be sorry about. Unless them tales of witcher stamina aren’t true?” Kealan grinned again as he scooted up the bed and fumbled on the bedside table for something.

Eskel had stamina and if Kealan wanted more he could damn well have it. Eskel pushed his leathers the rest of the way off of his feet and climbed onto the bed after Kealan. When Kealan handed him a small bottle of oil Eskel raised his eyebrow questioningly. His cock was already thoroughly covered in Kealan’s spit, he knew he could jack them off together like that quite well but Kealan wanted it even slicker?

“Ya want to fuck my arse dinnae ye?” Kealan’s leer was downright sinful but Eskel’s re-burgeoning arousal was dampened. Not this again.

“I-” Eskel struggled for the words to explain this, “-I know it doesn’t feel good.” He settled on that and then rushed to add, “I want you to enjoy this too. You don’t have to do that for me.”

Kealan gave him an odd look, “Witcher if it dinnae feel good ye weren’t doin’ it right.” Kealan took the oil back from him and proceeded to uncork it. “I want yer cock in my arse because that’s what I _enjoy_ and it feels amazin’. I’m doin’ it fer me, but yer gonna fancy it too.” Kealan spilled some oil in his fingers, “Now, the first part of makin’ this feel good fer me is bein’ ready. Since the idea is new to ya, yer jus’ gonna watch, an’ by the time I am stretched an’ ready for yer cock, yer cock will be ready for me.” There was that sinful leer again and Eskel couldn’t do anything but sit back on his heels and watch. Kealan seemed to know more about fucking men than Eskel did, and no one was forcing him to do this so Eskel would hear him out. One whiff of pain from the man and Eskel swore he’d be done though.

Kealan set the oil uncorked on the bedside table and then laid back and cupped his balls with his unoiled hand, shifting them to the side. With his feet planted on the bed and his legs spread wide so Eskel had a good view Kealan closed his eyes and moved his oiled fingers behind his other hand to slide and circle over his entrance.

Eskel drew in a deep breath, entranced as he watched Kealan work his wet fingers over and around his own furl. He didn’t know he was holding it until it hissed out of him when he saw the first finger slip easily in. It slid right back out and circled to gather more oil before slipping again further this time and Kealan moaned.

“That’s… fucking…” Eskel was at a loss for words.

“Filthy arousing? It’s good witcher, ya jus’ have ta go slow.” Kealan grunted as his finger went deeper and then retreated again, “An’ never without good oil.” A bell went off inside Eskel’s head and he laughed softly.

Kealan’s second finger joined his first and he paused but Eskel couldn’t smell anything but salty sweet smoke, the bitter aroma of the oil, and his own arousal- no pain. Kealan moved his fingers slowly in and stretched his rim moaning soft and obscene. More oil was added from the table, and after a few minutes of panting around two fingers a third joined. Eskel’s cock jerked between his thighs.

“Witcher,” Kealan voice had a low begging quality to it and Eskel didn’t need to be asked twice. He moved up and ran the back of his hand up the length of Kealan’s cock to watch it jump and bob off his belly leaving a string of precum there.

“Fuck. Witcher!” Kealan grabbed the oil again and poured some over Eskel’s thick cock, stroking it to cover it all. Wrapping his legs around Eskel’s hips Kealan drew Eskel close still stroking his cock as he guided it to his stretched hole. The soft skin winked when the head of Eskel’s cock pressed against it and they both groaned. Kealan locked his ankles behind Eskel’s back, heels resting at the top of his ass and urged Eskel forward.

“Slow,” was all Kealan said but he sounded desperate.

Eskel let Kealan direct the pace with his heels, gently bringing Eskel forward further and further until Eskel felt a give and the warmest tightest heat he’d ever felt. If he thought Kealan’s mouth felt great, this was incredible. They both paused a moment, Kealan to adjust to Eskel’s thickness and Eskel to keep from losing himself right then and there. Before long though Kealan’s legs around his waist were urging him along, deeper and deeper. When he was rooted down to his balls in Kealan’s tightness Eskel was pulled down for a kiss. It was sweet and more chaste than the one they had shared in the kitchen but it wasn’t long before Kealan had deepened it to something more heady. Eskel’s lips gently brushing against Kealan’s as his brain tried to process the sensations of being lodged so deep inside another. Kealan tugging at Eskel’s lips at first with his teeth, then resorting to biting in order to gain entry and fucking into Eskel’s hot mouth with his tongue.

“Want ta ride you,” Kealan whispered in Eskel’s ear before urging him over still seated deeply on Eskel’s cock.

And that was a new feeling in and of itself. Rolling over and feeling Kealan’s muscles bunch and move as his abdomen worked around Eskel deep inside his body nearly set Eskel off again. They ended up with Eskel on his back and Kealan straddling him, knees on either side of Eskel’s torso. Kealan pushed off Eskel with his hand on his chest for leverage and then lowered himself back down. It was everything Eskel had not to cum. Kealan did ride him too, slow and easy at first, then faster and more frenetic the longer they fucked. Eskel concentrated hard on not spilling into that tight heat that gripped him like a glove. When he tried to take Kealen’s cock in hand to bring him off and give himself the sweet mercy of finally being able to spill Kealan took his hands and held them firmly to his thighs. Eskel felt the corded muscles under his hands bunch and relax repeatedly as Kealan lifted and dropped himself onto Eskel’s cock over and over. Kealan’s rhythm had begun to falter and without much more warning than that his hard cock began to pulse cum from the tip, oozing over the edge and dripping down his length.

Eskel was not prepared at all for the strong contractions that gripped his cock when Kealan came on top of him. He felt like he was being jacked off inside that slick heat and he couldn’t stop the orgasm he felt like he’d been riding for the last half hour. As Eskel spilled inside, Kealan’s walls still contracted around him, milking the last of his pleasure from him. Kealan collapsed on top of him, exhausted and completely spent. Eskel’s cock fell out and he kissed the side of Kealan’s head finding it sweaty. He thought they definitely should wash up a little because he’d realized now how dirty they were. He said so to Kealan.

“We should at least wipe off,” Eskel said softly.

“Yea, but I’m too tired ta move, so nae. Tomorraw,” Kealan was clearly not going to get off of him so Eskel settled in for the night.

Kealan was out in no time but it took Eskel much longer to drift off. It had been an amazing night and his mind was racing with thoughts. Foremost of which was why couldn’t it have been like this with Geralt?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up Eskel gets it on with the infamous fisstech/sucubus. Please leave me comment cookies, encouragement, let me know what you like, what you can't stand. Tell me if there is something you have always head-cannoned Eskel as having tried, you never know.... maybe it will make an appearance. Man's got like 60 years still to make it through so lots of ground to cover!


	5. Of Fisstech and Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One contract story though Eskel didn’t share for 64 years. And when he did it was only because he was far far more drunk than Geralt had been when he tried to kiss Eskel that night. So drunk in fact they found him outside, on the ground, next to his goat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter ran a little longer in between than usual but I promise it's worth it! I am posting it while on the road for everyone to enjoy :) This is the encounter that prompted me to start writing this particular series. I think anyone who played Witcher 3 wanted to know the whole story here....

Nearly a decade had passed and Eskel had only more scars to show for it. They had begun to litter his body like all the witchers before him, a tapestry of pain, the price of his work. Shiny new skin grown too fast with Swallow to heal cuts, punctures, bites, and burns. He was older, but as far as witchers went not by much, wiser (though probably not as much as he’d like to think), and faster. The scars were getting fewer and farther in between and for that he was thankful.

 

Every year he returned to Kaer Morhen to winter. Carousing with his fellow Wolves, sharing tales of the Path with Geralt. It had gotten easier. Geralt told tales of the many beautiful women he bedded. Some were scholars or noblewomen, others simple whores. He seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve for all of them, wanting each earnestly, enjoying them and then moving on as the Path called him. Of that Eskel was jealous but he never let it show. He wished at times that Geralt’s desire for him had been so open and earnest, rather than hidden and abandoned at the first opportunity. They were best friends still though, so Eskel listened with an open mind and tried to smile because he knew it made Geralt happy.

The tales Eskel told left out any covert liaisons he may have gotten the chance to experience. There had been a few, but they were limited and far between. Instead he focused on interesting contracts he’d completed, complained about lack of work when there had been little. Geralt once managed to get out of him that he’d visited a brothel and enjoyed it but not much more, only that it’d had been in Vizima. Eskel thought to himself it would be interesting to go back and see if Aldith was still there. It could be even more fun now that he wasn’t so uptight about it.

Sometimes during their talks about contracts he picked up on the fact that Geralt was loathe to end sentient monsters. It seemed to Eskel that Geralt would do it if there was absolutely not other option, or if the monster was harming people. However, if it could be resolved without bloodshed, or if the creature posed no threat, he noticed that was always the route Geralt chose. Eskel found it interesting. Nothing in how they had been taught leant them one way or the other on this, it was clearly Geralt’s own personal morality that led him this way. And that was why it fascinated Eskel, witchers weren’t known for their morality, personal or otherwise. It was something he admired in Geralt.

Once after some raucous drinking in the keep gone much to far, Geralt followed Eskel to a shadowed secluded area and tried to kiss him passionately but Eskel stopped it. He wasn’t going to make that mistake twice, even if he really wanted to. Thankfully Geralt didn’t seem to remember what he’d done in the morning, only that he had a hell of hangover. Eskel offered him some white honey and bread, bumping his shoulder as though it was nothing.

 

One contract story though Eskel didn’t share for 64 years. And when he did it was only because he was far far more drunk than Geralt had been when he tried to kiss Eskel that night. So drunk in fact they found him outside, on the ground, next to his goat. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of the contract or how it had gone, or even who he’d done afterward. It was the fisstech.

 

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

 

It was 1208 when Eskel took a contract out of Brenna. A woman claimed her husband had been lured away to the Owl Hills by a ‘lecherous she-demon’ and never returned. She offered gold if her husband could be returned, his stallion if he could not. Eskel’s mare had aged considerably and he was in need of a new horse or the money to buy one so he would win either way.

To him it sounded like a clear cut case of a succubus being too greedy. It was fine if they chose to live in the forest and keep a male visitor for a night or two. Interfering with village life and not allowing the man to return or draining him dry of energy though - that was dangerous territory. Eskel doubted this was the kind of contract were he could be like Geralt and let the monster go free.

Riding out to the Owl Hills Eskel began to look for any telltale signs of the succubus. What he found instead was a man’s boot, bloodied, laying in the middle of the wooded hills. Puzzled he honed his senses and looked around until he spied a small trail of blood. Following it led to the blood trail growing, snags of cloth on a bramble bush. Eskel heard the howling of a pack of wolves ahead of him. Drawing his steel sword Eskel crept forward, tuning in on the sounds of the pack as it approached him, circling around him in the woods. The wolves were easy enough for a trained witcher to dispatch. Following the blood trail though Eskel discovered that the same hadn’t held true for the woman’s husband when pitted against the pack. A witcher versus six wolves was not the same as one man against six wolves wielding only a woodcutting ax.

The man had been there a while unfortunately and Eskel ended up holding his nose as he looked for something he could take back to his wife for proof. He settled for the man’s plain steel ring, which would certainly need to be washed before being presented to the wife, and his leather cap which only had a little blood on it.

 

Continuing up quite a way from the body Eskel heard the tinkle of a stream. He followed the noise until the stream came into sight and then bent to rinse the ring. The sound of hooves on rock caught his attention and he looked up to the other side of the stream to see black cloven hooves rising to dark mahogany hair which turned into smooth caramel skin just before disappearing under a scanty loincloth with black leather belts holding it up. A chain of brass circles sat around the middle of the succubus’ waist and a few more long ones draped around her neck hanging deliciously off pert breasts, the chains spread apart around her taut nipples. Black paint swathed sections of her face and arms, and her black hair fell around her shoulders in tight ringlets. Dark umber horns curled from her hair.

Eskel sat on his heels, looking at the creature before him. He didn’t say anything. He had to admit everything about the succubus screamed _strong_ at him. Her arms though thin clearly could give him a run for his money, those legs had power barely concealed in them. He realized startled that he found her attractive. Eskel didn’t find many females attractive, but this creature…

“I hope you see I didn’t harm him,” her voice jingled with an unsung harmony.

“Seems he was taken down by a pack of wolves,” Eskel said, “nothing to do with you. The village made assumptions because they know you’re here.”

“He did come see me sometimes. Many of them do,” she sounded forlorn, “but I do not keep them. They do not belong to me.”

Eskel appreciated the honesty, she didn’t have to tell him if the man had come to her, Eskel already had an answer that would exonerate her. “I’ll tell them about the wolves but they may still send someone after you.”

“I know, I will have to move. I will be lonely for a while again,” she looked seductively at Eskel, “keep me warm for the night before I go?”

 _No, NO, bad idea Eskel,_ he thought. “Yes.” Eskel stood and crossed the stream standing in front of her and craving to touch her. _Yeah the strength and the horns are really doing it for me,_ he thought as he reached out toward her.

She took his hand and led him to a cave, the entrance was surrounded by wildflowers. Inside the scent of flowers exploded in his nose. She had then hung everywhere, drying in rings, daisy chains, in baskets, and on tables in vases. The cave was cozy, warmed by a low fire, a plush pallet of furs, pillows, and blankets adorned one corner.

She drew him into a deep kiss by the fire, her slim strong hand immediately seeking out his cock to palm him through his leathers.

“Melitele,” Eskel breathed out, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Mmm,” she smiled and rubbed her hand on him a little rougher, causing him to inhale sharply. “You can call me Fiona… if you take your swords off,” she took his hand again and led him toward her pile of furs and pillows. Eskel conceded that it wouldn’t be comfortable to get laid while wearing them, so he loosened his belt and set them to the side. Allowing himself to be pushed down onto his knees on the pallet of furs Eskel felt the sudden need to tell her.

“I should warn you,” he said trying to keep his voice even, “I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”

Laughing Fiona tipped his head up to her by his chin to look him in the eyes, “Most men tell me that witcher, you’re no different.”

“I meant,” Eskel licked his dry lips, swallowing hard, “I don’t usually sleep with women at all. I prefer-”

“OH! Well then, you are a little different then most men. But that’s okay, I’ll give you a little something to help you loosen up.” Fiona’s face became mischievous as she dragged her finger across his lips before going to one of the tables that held a vase of flowers. She picked up three vials. One was a small tube of white powder, another a small teardrop shaped vial of green viscous fluid, and the third appeared to be a standard sized bottle of golden oil.

Returning to the pile of furs Fiona let the green and golden vials rest by the pillows. She tapped the white powdered vial to loosen its contents.

“Witcher have you ever taken fisstech?” Her smile was curious, nonjudgmental.

“Uhhh, no.”

“Hmm, I imagine it will take a bit more given your constitution. It takes quite a lot to get you drunk, right?” Fiona uncorked the powder and knelt between Eskel’s legs where he had sat back on his heels on the bed.

“Umm yeah. What’s this going to do to me?” Eskel wasn’t sure this was a good idea, he could almost hear Vesemir in his head telling him _Stop! Stop! Think about what you’re doing!_ He also wanted to reach out and wrap his fingers in her hair to pull her into a kiss by the base of her horns buried there. FUCK. _Fuck_. He was screwed.

“Make you feel euphoric, relax your inhibitions, allow you to imagine me as a man if you so choose,” she was picking up a small mirror near the bed of furs, pouring a line of the white powder on it, then a second. The vial was still two thirds full. “I am going to plug one side of your nose and you are going to inhale like this,” Fiona was busy showing him as she plugged her own nose and sniffed up the first line on the mirror. Her eyes watered and she gave a small cough. “And you’ll fly with me, I’ll make you feel better than any man.” She sniffed the second line and her eyes went glassy, pupils hugely dilated in the dim cave.

Eskel laughed to himself. _Wish you could make me forget Geralt,_ he opined in his own mind.

Fiona plugged one side of his nose and held the vial to the other, “Breathe deeply now, and I’ll make you feel better than he ever could.”

Melitele it was burning his nose, and he was coughing. Wait? Did she know he loved Geralt? Fiona was leaning down, kissing his lips as he tried to catch his breath, then the vial was pressed to his other nostril. The only way he could breathe was to pull in more fisstech and it didn’t burn as much the second time. The room was spinning a bit. She corked the vial and set it by the pillow with the others for a moment. Eskel vaguely wondered if he had said something about forgetting Geralt out loud, but before he could think about it the cave was coming into sharp view and he was all too aware of the way his leathers held his braies roughly against his cock.

Eskel groaned and he let Fiona unbuckle his armor and cast it aside. His shirt was pulled over his head and he was pushed back against what seemed like a sea of pillows. Fiona’s brass chains draped down onto his chest. The metal was cool against his skin as it dragged across his own nipples. Those strong legs straddled him and it was nothing like any woman before, not even Aldith. Eskel thought she could keep him there if she wanted. He’d have to fight if he wanted to get up and it felt so good. He lifted his hips under her and she ground down on him, breathy and smiling.

“Mmm already hard for me, I like it,” Fiona rasped. “I want you to tell me your darkest fantasy witcher,” she had a twinkle in her eye, “and I’ll make it come true in your mind.”

Eskel hesitated, he couldn’t tell her about Geralt.

Feeling Eskel tense up underneath her even just that little bit, Fiona reached for the white vial again. “You are not relaxed enough yet, my sweetheart.”

And then the vial was up against his nose and the world was blurring before him. One side then the other again. Her faint giggle sounded far off in the background even though he could see her blearily right in front of him. When he could breathe right again he sucked in great gasps of air. Eskel couldn’t feel anything except the throb in his cock, the burn in his nipples where the metal lay against them from her necklaces, the tickle of her hair against his neck as she leaned over him and kissed him again. Her lips locked onto his, her tongue parting his mouth and seeking out his taste. The sweet smooth undulations of her hips over his, ocean waves pulling him farther out to sea. The cave fading farther and farther away.

“FUCK.” Eskel breathed out loudly when she broke the kiss. His hands resting on her hips as he rocked up into her.

“Tell me sweetheart. What do you want to do to me?” Fiona asked him gently again but more surely this time. “Do you want to take me as you would a man? Open me up and sink your hard cock into my most forbidden place?”

Eskel’s breath caught in his throat at the idea. Gods yes. To slide his oil slick fingers into her tight ass and then have his way with her. Now that he knew he could do it and not hurt her.

“Mmm you like that idea,” Fiona smiled down at him and kissed his neck behind his ear. She whispered to him then, “but what is your darkest fantasy? What if I were to slick you up? Slide my fingers into you one after another, fill you up and bring you off while you imagined it was him?” Eskel went totally still for a moment. He closed his eyes and concentrated only on breathing and nothing else.

“Oh Gods… Yes…” Eskel’s voice was barely above a whisper when he admitted it. His body shook slightly at the thought of Geralt filling him up, of enjoying it like the blacksmith in Skellige had, like he’d always wanted too. “How do you know about him though?”

“There’s always someone sweetie,” was Fiona’s only reply. “We’ll save that for later.”

She worked her belts loose and then discarded her loincloth. Eskel could smell her. Everything smelled loud- the sweetness of the flowers all around the cave, the dryness of the stone walls here, the slightly sweet smell that came from the wetness between Fiona’s legs, and his own salty tang. Fiona’s brown skin sparkled and shined in the low light, the flowers were smears of bright radiant color. Each time he moved his eyes the colors left small trails behind them. Eskel found one his hands traveling to the damp patch of curls between her legs, curiously stroking her there, feeling the wetness glide on his fingers. He licked his fingers, it tasted sweet like it smelled, but it wasn’t what he really wanted. She reached up and grabbed the two bottles left by the pillows. Fiona pressed the golden oil into Eskel’s hand and took the smaller green one herself.

Standing on her hooves and turning over him to sit on his chest with her ass in his face Fiona giggled softly when she felt Eskel’s hands settle on her ass. He splayed her apart with his large fingers, shifting her tail to the side so he could stare at her tightly coiled entrance right before his face. She was so close he could almost lean forward and nip at her ass cheeks. Fiona untied his laces and worked his leathers and braies down his legs, pushing his boots off, removing his leathers the rest of the way, before settling her rounded ass back on his chest. His hands immediately gripping her and spreading her wide again.

“Like what you see?” Fiona’s voice was all pleasure and giddiness. Eskel heard the cork pop from her vial and smelled the distinct scent of mint before he felt a chilling coolness on his cock. The consistency was as slippery as oil but it was like a cold breeze had drifted over his aching hardness. It didn’t ease his stiffness though, only made him hiss and thrust up to be greeted by Fiona’s warm hand. The contradiction between cooling oil and heated fingers driving him closer to the edge.

Eskel ran his own thumb over her soft rosebud, listening to her moan when his rough calluses caught on the edge and tugged at it. His cock thrummed in her soft hand as she stroked him, pressing her ass back against his thumb. He opened his own oil and let some fall in the cleft between her well-rounded cheeks, over his fingers there, before putting the cork back in. He stoked over her tightness, gently coaxing it to a relaxed state with repeated passes before dipping in, pressing against it with one slippery finger and some force. Fiona drew a rough breath in and Eskel stared amazed as her sweet hole swallowed his finger right up.

“Gods,” he moaned.

“Mmm. It’s good, I want more.” Fiona gasped and leaned back against Eskel’s hand sinking his finger further as her breath hitched.

“Fuck. Yeah,” Eskel was almost growling quietly in the back of his throat, “I’ll let you have more.” He let his second finger drag through the oil around her furl before pressing it in next to the first. It sank in and she moaned again. The hand stroking his cock slid faster up and down his shaft. He lost track of time, lost in the sensation of hot and cold chasing up and down his cock.

 

The next thing Eskel knew Fiona was on her knees, head buried in the pillows, ass up in the air, with three of his thick fingers stretching her wide open. His cock was slicked up and all he wanted to do was sink in deep. He had no memory of how or when they changed positions, lost in the slide and blur the fisstech had created in his mind.

“Please,” Fiona begged, “please let me have it.” She whimpered when he withdrew his fingers but the moan she let out when she felt the blunt head of his cock settle against her softly open hole made up for it. Eskel leaned over her and let himself slide in a bit. Slow and easy, he slid home, his eyes closed, lips pressed to her shoulder. Gods he wished it was Geralt. The light coolness on his prick was swallowed slowly by the immense heat of Fiona’s walls as he sank into her. Eskel thrust shallowly into her at first before losing himself to abandon and letting himself sink deeply into her body again and again. He held her hips steady as his own slapped into hers until his balls were pulling tight and he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. Eskel's orgasm was strong as he let himself spill inside her, his vision still disoriented from the fisstech. Blinding flashes of light popped behind his eyelids. He felt drained, honestly exhausted in a bone deep way. Eskel knew she was feeding of his energy and he didn’t care, not right now. A few more soft thrusts and he withdrew, flopping onto the furs next to her desiring nothing but sleep at that moment.

Fiona gave him a predatory look as she picked up the golden oil bottle and crawled towards him. Eskel barely opened his eyes to see and wondered what she could possibly still need from him.

The kiss was long and languid, exploratory. Gentle. He liked it. Eskel let his fingers tangle in her hair, massaging the base of one of her horns where it met her skull. There was no rush to it. Fiona just mapped out his mouth inside and out. Then kissed his eyelids closed. Her lips moved on along the line of his jaw, down to his neck. Her hand graced his knee, rubbing it, massaging the tight muscles of his thigh. He’d just had quite a work out after all so this was lovely. Her lips sealed around his nipple and she nibbled, causing him to suck in a breath. That felt good. Her hand was pulling his knee up, out to the side at a right angle. That was a stretch but it felt good still. Fiona laid down beside him her, head on his chest, her teeth still teasing his nipple as her hand cupped his soft cock and balls.

“MmmHmm, feels good,” was all Eskel could muster. Fiona’s talented hand was slowly working his oversensitive flesh, pressure just firm enough not to make it unpleasant. Her fingers strayed to his balls and fondled them, running them through her fingers, squeezing them gently, tugging them down and away from his body before cradling them up against him. She laced her leg around his out turned knee holding it there. Coming up off his chest she opened the oil bottle and poured some over her fingers, letting it dribble down them onto his sac.

Eskel grunted at the feeling of the slick oil on his balls, it was sliding back behind them, trickling over places no one but Geralt had ever dared touch and even then only the once. “Fiona,” Eskel questioned, “what are you doing?” He was still hazy in his post orgasmic bliss, higher than a kite on fisstech, and a little worn from her feeding on his energy, so somehow it didn’t come out sounding as alarmed as he felt like it should have.

“I haven’t forgotten your deepest fantasy, sweetie. Just close your eyes, and pretend it’s him touching you.” Fiona’s voice was steeped with sex and raw want. FUCK. He had forgotten for a moment. His eyes slid closed once more and he tried not to startle when her fingers nudged his sac to the side, when the oil was spread over him there. His leg involuntarily jerked in but it was held firm by her own wrapped around it. Whether or not he would admit it the strength that held his leg out was arousing.

A high pitched whine was lingering in the back of Eskel’s throat. He was waiting for that brutal pain to stab at him, but it never came. Those talented fingers worked him, round and round his tightness, soft and insistent. Gentle presses against the center of his furl before smoothing away to circle it again. And before long the image of Geralt did appear before him unbidden. Eskel imagined Geralt’s rough lips coming down on his. He dared to imagine it was Geralt’s strong fingers touching him there, so gently convincing his body to open for him. When the first finger slid into his heat, that whine turned into a deep groan as his hips lifted into the air. Her finger followed his body, gently stroking in and out of him, a little deeper each time. His breath became ragged pants as her other finger rubbed the ring of muscle gripping her first finger. Slicking the way, easing in. His breath stuck in his throat. His heart trapped in his ribcage, threatening to burst out it was tripping along so quickly.

“Fuck,” Eskel whispered to no one in particular. “Fuck. FUCK.” A little louder this time. His ass squeezed on her two fingers and he felt unbearably full. Eskel shuddered. His cock twitched and stiffening at the sensation. “Gods. Please.” Her fingers moved slowly, methodically, until-

“OH FUCK!” Eskel’s cock jerked suddenly, and he felt the arousal icy cold pooling in his hips. She brushed over that spot deep inside his ass again. His eyes still slammed shut tight against it all he clenched around her fingers again and groaned loudly as her fingers danced over that spot. His cock ached, his balls felt full, and he knew he needed more, he just didn’t know what he needed more of.

“More. Please,” Eskel begged softly.

Fiona sank down and drew his length into her mouth as he let out a breathy sigh. Then a third finger joined the others in his ass, stretching him open, strumming that bundle of nerves inside him.

“Oh Gods. Oh-” Eskel could hardly articulate, “-fuck.” He thrust blindly into her mouth seeking softness there, and each time his hips fell a little he gasped at the intrusion taking place in his ass, making him see stars. He let his mind wander aimlessly, drifting over images of Geralt naked, hand between his legs touching him so intimately, getting him ready. Without warning he wondered what it would feel like if Geralt slid his long cock into him like this, when he was stretched out, oiled up, ready, and wanton. He spurted forcefully into Fiona’s mouth, his ass gripping her fingers tightly, spasming around them almost violently.

“Gods Geralt!” Eskel cried out. Fiona followed Eskel’s spasms, drank him down, and let his body ride her fingers until his hips stilled. He was utterly drained. Fiona though was glowing with energy under her skin, she had fed well. Eskel didn't notice as he floated off to sleep though, so thoroughly worn that even the fisstech had lost its hold.

 

The next morning when Eskel woke he was sore. His ass ached a little bit but not like before, enough though that he burned a little with shame at what he’d done. He had fucked a succubus. Sure, plenty of witchers had done that before him, especially if they felt the succubus was being harmless. This was so much worse though, he had wanted so badly for it to be Geralt that he had to be high on fisstech to even do it. Eskel knew deep inside that his feelings for Geralt were complicated even if he never admitted it even to himself. This only further reinforced how screwed up they were.

 

Eskel looked around the cave wearily. He was lying on one lone fur, a single pillow under his head. The dressers and tables were still there but they were empty, drawers askew. The flowers had wilted. Fiona had moved along as she knew she would have to. Running a hand over his face Eskel set about getting himself dressed. He needed to go back to the village and tell the woman her husband had been taken by wolves. On the ground he noticed a small vial with a light green tinge to it. Eskel snatched it up. He wanted to spend some time dissecting the alchemy of that particular mint oil.

 

When he wandered out of the cavern he whistled for his horse. After swinging up in the saddle and adjusting himself he decided the slight discomfort didn’t outweigh the pleasure if it were with the right person. Eskel wasn’t sure he’d ever have a chance with the right person though.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feed me comments, feedback, ideas... I am open to it all and gobble it up like coffee.


	6. Some Brothels are Better Than Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel goes back to visit an old acquaintance, and in doing so learns that some brothels are indeed better than others. Also, he spends more money on a night in a brothel than he will ever admit to Geralt. Fluffy friendly talk, and smutty smut smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unreasonably late after a month instead of the usual week and for that I apologize. Life has a way of happening.
> 
> I am unbelievably grateful to the wonderful Bookscorpion for Beta skills extraordinaire as usual!!!  
>  _So without further delay please enjoy Eskel's latest adventure in life and sex._

Eskel hadn’t spent much time in Novigrad willingly. At thirty-seven years old, pushing nearly two decades on the Path and not dead yet, large cities weren’t really his forte. In his mind cities were better at spending your gold, than they were at helping you earn it. In the fall of 1212 though Eskel had decided he’d take a well earned rest in Novigrad, for a day or two on his way back to Kaer Morhen for the winter. It hadn’t been his own idea really. It was all Aldith’s fault.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

It was a baking hot summer in Temeria. The crop fields were dry and dust bitten. People were going more hungry than usual. It was ugly, unpleasant… deadly. And with deadly came work for Eskel. Necrophages cropped up anywhere fresh bodies went down. Fields sown with seed that should have been ripe with wheat and rye where instead crawling with ghouls, graveirs, and rotfiends.

The sheer number of contracts was almost overwhelming. Each village Eskel entered came with another elder clamoring at his heels. _“Please master witcher, help us,”_ they begged. Sometimes the pay was good, sometimes it was bad, sometimes it was just in the form of food, drink, and a place to sleep on a real bed free of charge, but Eskel was not lacking for anything that summer.

By the time he made his way to Vizima, he’d decided he could likely turn around after a few days to restock supplies and spend the rest of the summer working his way back up through Temeria and Redania to Keadwen for winter and still not run out of work on the way. Eskel was content not having to travel far afield this year, especially when he was making at least average or better coin.

He set himself up with a room in the Hairy Bear, still as flea infested as ever. Knowing better than to trust the beer there he brought his own. He enjoyed a hot meal of mystery sausage stew up in his room while he drank his beer and mulled over his plans. He needed to get some repairs on his weapons and really needed to restock herbs and brew potions. So at least two days in Vizima, maybe three. Aldith crossed his mind. He wondered if she was even still around. Had she moved on? Died? Eager Thighs was still open for business kitty corner across from the inn but he wasn’t interested in just any whore. If anything he almost wanted to stop by and say hi to her. Tell her he had figured some shit out in his life, as laughable as that probably was. She was a rather enlightening and intelligent woman in that short time he’d met her years ago, he’d seen the spark in her eyes even past his own fear and astonishment. _Gods who am I? Geralt?_ Eskel chastised himself. _Befriending hookers?_ Geralt would bring flowers. Eskel doubted her work said anything more or less about her than his did about him. It was only a job after all, like any other job. Witcher, whore, farmer, banker, what did it matter in the end?

 

Eskel trekked to the trade quarter to purchase supplies for potions and bombs. He made a stop at the blacksmith to inquire about the cost and time requirements for the repairs he needed. Satisfied with the answers he dropped off his swords, arming himself with his backup set in the meantime, and headed back towards the inn. Three days in town at least now. He set up the items to make his potions on the only table in his ramshackle room. Having no desire to start in on the alchemy tonight he gave in to his curiosity and headed across the street.

The door to Eager Thighs swung open easily, a portend to how the girls would open up for you if you loosened your purse strings he supposed. Glancing around Eskel looked for the worn face of old house madame but she was nowhere to be found. Nor was the familiar face of Aldith either. He sighed inwardly sad. Good things never lasted long enough in this world. A youngish girl in her twenties approached him. He guessed most men would find her attractive with her soft long blond hair and tiny smile. He thought she looked skinny, hungry maybe even. Eskel thought he’d rather take her to dinner than try and bed her.

“Hello there mister, care to spend some time with one of us girls?” Her voice was soft too, delicate and sweet, she caught his eyes and grinned widely. “Ooh, a witcher! Maybe two of us girls would satisfy that legendary stamina?” This time she tried to wrap herself around one of Eskel’s arms as she talked.

“Uhh, no…” Eskel stuttered a little as he tried to politely extricate himself from her grasp. This hadn’t been his plan. He didn’t want to take some tiny breakable girl to bed, he wasn’t into that at all. “I was looking for someone who used to work here. Years ago. Her name was Aldith.”

“Oh,” the small soft blond looked disappointed at having clearly lost her prize, “I’ll get you the madame.”

“Thank you,” Eskel breathed a small sigh of relief at being released, “very much,” he added ever polite.

Eskel leaned his hip against one of the small tables that wasn’t currently occupied by scantily clad skinny women playing dice or drinking wine. Or being danced on. He waited only a few minutes before the blonde reappeared followed by a stockier built tall woman with tanned skin and long straight salt and pepper hair. Not the madame from before. Eskel recognized the long legs and that grin beaming back at him.

“Witcher Eskel!” Aldith’s eyes radiated warmth as she greeted him, and to his surprise held out her arms for a hug. Eskel didn’t hesitate at all to wrap her up in his arms and lift her off the ground before setting her back down.

“Hey, I thought maybe you had left.” Eskel was more relieved that he wanted to admit that he had found her still here. And he’d never admit that it warmed his heart she remembered his damn name!

Aldith laughed in that low husky voice of hers that made his belly tingle. “No, just moved up in the world is all. I own the place now.” Eskel noticed the blonde had wandered away quietly to look for a customer who might actually have an interest in her.

“That’s really great. I’m happy for you,” Eskel found he genuinely meant it. It was easy to talk to Aldith as he didn’t feel he had anything to hide from her. She knew what he was, what he preferred, and never judged him for it before.

“Now if I recall correctly,” Aldith got a wicked smile on her face, “it’s unlikely you’re here for one of my girls, unless something’s changed. So what brings you to my wonderful house of pleasure?”

Eskel almost wanted to blush. Gods she knew him and called him out so well. “Nothing’s changed Aldith, except I know more about myself now. I came because- I guess I wanted to see if you were still here. Say thanks. See how you were doing. Let you know I got older and wiser.” He felt a little stupid now, saying it out loud, she probably didn’t care about him on a personal level, so much as just remember him as the witcher who didn’t like women.

Aldith looped her arm into his, “Well then Eskel, may I suggest we retire to my rooms for some relaxing tea or loosening vodka? Your choice! I doubt we want to reminisce about the last time you were here amongst the bar patrons.” She winked and her grin was infectious. Eskel couldn’t help but follow along as she led him to the back of the house. Maybe he hadn’t misjudged her, after all she had remembered his name.

 

Once he was seated in a surprisingly comfortable padded chair at a low table in her rooms in the back Aldith called to him from her side bar.

“Tea or vodka?”

“Uhh,” Eskel hesitated.

“Both,” Aldith announced succinctly.

Well that settled that. She busied herself heating a kettle on the fireplace next to the sidebar, and poured out four shots of pepper vodka, arranging them neatly on a tray next to two rough pewter mugs. She took a small handful of dried tea leaves and wound them into threadbare linen piece before knotting it and tossing it into the kettle when she removed it from the fire. Once the kettle was settled on the tray with the shots and mugs she brought it over to the low table and then promptly settled herself right onto the Eskel’s lap. He let out a small oomph of surprise. She reached down and handed him a shot of vodka. As soon as he took it she down one of her own.

“You know Eskel, I always wondered about you after you left,” Aldith announced. She’d made herself quite comfortable in his lap, not in a sexual way really more like a cat cozying up near a fire. But it made Eskel warm all over that someone was so comfortable touching him. Her legs curled up in his lap, her body leaned against his, head rested on his shoulder, hair drifting over his arm. Not a care in the world that he was a monster killing machine, that he could break her. As far as Eskel was concerned Aldith could use him as furniture anytime she wanted. It felt good to just be touched with nothing expected in return.

“You did?” Eskel asked Aldith with no small amount of wonder in his voice.

“Mm hm of course! Gods, Eskel you came in here on a random day- this big strong witcher, scared of himself, practically shaking like a leaf. You reminded me so much of my younger self! I wanted to show you it was okay to be yourself, and when you left I _knew_ … well I hoped at least… that I had succeeded a little?” Aldith handed Eskel another shot of pepper vodka before downing the last one herself and continuing, “After that I always wondered how you were. Every summer I wondered if you would come back maybe for a romp even though women aren’t your preference, I knew I could still help you out. But you didn’t and that was okay too, as long as you were doing well. When I took over Eager Thighs I even entertained the idea of bringing in a boy or two to work, but not enough men like you come in to make it worth while. I am really glad you came to visit me.” She smiled and handed him his mug of tea, curling her hands around her own and pressing her lips to his jaw in a smooth chaste kiss.

“So tell me Eskel, how _have_ you been? Met any good men? Killed any horrible monsters?” She tucked her head under Eskel’s jaw resting it against the front of his neck to listen to his reply.

Eskel was silent for just a few heartbeats, awed at Aldith’s interest. That was the longest a woman had ever talked to him. Hell the longest anyone outside of a contract, sexual interest, or fellow witcher had ever talked to him, period.

“Well,” Eskel huffed out a laugh, “killed plenty of monsters, some more horrible than others. This summer in particular has been brutal and full of necrophages, which is why I had the time and money to stop by Vizima for the next three days. I have been good, both worse and better before I suppose.”

Eskel paused to drink his tea and ponder how comfortable he was with Aldith. He could spill all his secrets to her, she’d never tell right? “I’ve definitely figured my shit out some since I saw you last.” At that Eskel truly laughed. “Slept with an amazingly tantalizing redheaded man in Skellige, who showed me how it's done properly.” Eskel felt warm, if he could turn red he would have admitting that, but he didn’t think Aldith would judge him. She was his friend sort of, this was the sort of thing he would have told his fellow witchers if the person he’d bedded had been a Skellige lass instead of a lad.

“Oh ho ho! You have a thing for the foreign and mysterious don’t you Eskel? Was that part of my charm for you back then?” Aldith’s steel bangles clinked softly as she sipped her mug of tea.

Eskel groaned a little, “Maybe? I don’t know, I was just so glad you weren’t tiny, rail thin, pale, and fragile looking. I don’t like feeling like I am going to break something made of glass. You came at me like this graceful animal instead, tall, strong, tanned, and toned. I was thrilled that I didn’t have to worry about hurting you just by touching you. Then, you seemed to see right through me. You weren’t angry at me for what I wanted, you made it seem like no big deal, like you just understood.” Eskel groaned louder this time, “and honestly the things you did to me, the way you talked me through it, was exactly what I needed.” He set his mug down half empty and put his arms around Aldith pulling her close in a tight hug. “Thank you.” Eskel kissed her forehead.

“I did understand, I still do.” Aldith replied her eyes looking soft and far away.

“How could you understand what it is like to be a man who… has tastes like mine? No offense, but you’re definitely a woman Aldith,” Eskel tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling.

“Mmm I said I saw so much of my younger self in you, and it was true Eskel. I was young once, and I loved a girl in Zerrikania. A highborn girl at that. Her parents were not approving. Well no one was really. Since I was only a service girl I was easily taken care of. Sent off with only the clothes on my back to a new country here. Not much work was available to a strange girl in a strange land so I made due clearly.” She rattled her wrist, bangles clinking roughly. “These are all I have to remind me of Johari, she gave them to me the night before her parents loaded me on a wagon to this new country.” Aldith pulled back looking Eskel in the eye, taking in his shocked face. “So while I may not be a man, I certainly know what it is like to love what is forbidden.”

“I… I am sorry. I would have never thought.” Eskel felt ashamed of himself for making assumptions of what Aldith preferred, for having never considered maybe some women felt the same way as some men. “It must have been terrible for you working here, having to keep all those men company when you hated it.”

“Oh I didn’t hate it!” Aldith drained the dregs of her tea, “I actually have yet to find a type of person I don’t enjoy. Men, women, women who wish they were men, men who wish they were women, Aen Seidhe, you-” Aldith abruptly got up from his lap and walked back towards the side bar “-more vodka?”

“Sure!” Eskel was glad for the reprieve and his mind was wandering over all the things she’d just listed half of which he didn’t know existed, maybe he didn’t have it as bad as he always thought he did.

Aldith brought the bottle back and refilled their shots, draining one immediately. “What I am saying is, I did understand, that’s why I saw right through you, but I had immense fun with you even if I am not a man. I love sex in all its forms Eskel, thats why I am happy here. I try to be happy here with what I love because the one person that I did love I will never get back. So I suggest that if you find someone like that, don’t just let them go as easily as I did. Fight for him.”

“Alright. I am just not sure he feels the same as I do anymore… I think he used to when we were young.” Eskel replied meekly. If only it were that easy. Aldith proceeded to fit herself back into his lap, drawing her legs over the side of the chair and reclining against his arm so she could still look him in the eye easily or rest her head on his shoulder if she wanted.

“Promise me witcher boy, you won’t be stupid like me?” Aldith’s voice was so open and earnest now Eskel couldn’t deny her.

“I did try and fight for him, I felt like he was fighting me right back though,” Eskel sighed and stared at the ceiling once again.

“Well maybe he was just as scared as you once were? Keep fighting, the idiot will see how wonderful you are someday. That’s all I ask.” Eskel laughed quietly at her for that. Good gods above he was getting love and life advice from a brothel owner now. Geralt would be proud. He downed his vodka.

“Okay,” Eskel smiled softly, letting the topic fall, “Now you said you thought about getting a man brought in here? I didn’t know that was even a thing? You mean to say I could have safely been paying for a man, rather than risking getting run out of town chased by torches if I approached the wrong fellow all this time?!”

Now Aldith was laughing, “Well not here, obviously since I never did hire one, profitability and all, but in bigger cities of course! You’d need to be choosy where you go if you want a good service and no rumors. Novigrad has two places that have men available. Crippled Kate’s, but the men there may only service women, I am not sure. Then there is The Passiflora, it is renowned for is service and its discretion, they have men and women available of all types, who will see to anyone’s needs for a price. It is high class and not for the faint of purse, but you would definitely find a man there to please you for the night, no fear of torches involved Eskel.”

“I can’t believe no one ever told me about this,” Eskel mused.

“Well, Eskel, it’s not exactly like you would have ever asked anyone, ‘Where can I pay to have a good looking man slip his cock in my mouth?’ now is it? But not to worry as a brothel owner I assure you my word is gold on this one. Go to The Passiflora and sate your desires, you won’t regret it.” Aldith beamed at him and shook the vodka bottle, “Another?” she questioned and Eskel nodded.

“Now tell me more about this man who you have been fighting for and how he seems to fight you back. I want to know who is trying to break your heart. You have to good of a heart to be broken.” Aldith peered at him earnestly.

Downing his fourth shot of vodka Eskel threw caution to the wind, “Hells, why not.”

And he started to tell his tale of unrequited heartache, he could think of no one else he trusted with it. Perhaps Aldith, curled in his lap desire nothing from him but friendship, would truly understand.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

So really it was all Aldith’s fault that Eskel was muddling his way through the streets of Novigrad on his new stallion. He’d left his old mare with Aldith, she’d been aging and he felt it was time to let mare retire. Aldith would give her a good life of hay and oats, and toting packages to the brothel and back. Aldith of course had insisted that the brothel pay him a small sum for her. Since The Path had been consumingly busy this year Eskel had more than enough to buy a young stallion, strong and swift, if a little temperamental in who he let near him. He seemed to tolerate Eskel fine though and he wasn’t skittish around loud noises which was essential to a witcher’s horse. Eskel and Aldith had dubbed him Fiorano after the rare and costly Toussaint wine, since he was the most expensive possession Eskel had ever bought.

Eskel looked at the signposts as people swirled around him, Fiorano carrying him steadily through the throngs of people that composed Novigrad. He thought again about how cities were good at gobbling up your gold and hoped his planned relaxing stay would be worth the amount he was likely to spend here. He worked his way toward Gildorf where Aldith said The Passiflora was located. Eskel felt like he should be anxious, being as he was going there to seek out and buy the services of a male prostitute, but oddly he wasn’t. This was one time he wasn’t at all worried he might be chased out of town. As Aldith had assured him, this brothel was discreet, his money would buy silence as well as sex. This was probably, the safest way he could ever sate his desires. He felt a bit ridiculous that he had only found out about it now nearing his fourth decade of life. Like Aldith had said though, it wasn’t like he’d asked.

 

As Eskel approached The Passiflora after turning right at St Gregory’s Bridge he stared in fascination. The Passiflora stood ahead of him easily dwarfing the buildings surrounding it. It was three stories tall, with wrap around balconies outside the second floor, and the staircase to the second floor was improbably beautiful. He suddenly felt out of his league for a moment. Eskel got his thoughts in order though, this was a business as long as he had the gold he’d be welcome. Unless they had some rule against witchers. He was pretty sure Aldith would not have suggested it if that were the case though. He guided Fiorano up and tied him to a post. He didn’t worry too much about anyone trying to thieve anything out of his bags, the feisty stallion was like to kick or bite anyone but Eskel who got near enough to try. Eskel strode toward the entrance looking more confident than he felt.

Inside was dim and cool, Eskel’s eyes adjusted to the light rapidly though. To his surprise no women rushed at him to try and sell themselves to him right away. He blinked and looked around. It was plushly decorated, couches and benches next to tables lined the sides. On the tables some women danced salaciously, some men too. Gods damn Aldith was right. He took in the sight of a man bare chested, bare footed, in nothing but black and white striped braies dancing and thrusting his hips on a table. He turned away and noticed an older woman dressed quite a bit more conservatively than the others, talking to a patron. That must be the madame. He made his way to her, and she greeted him politely.

“Marquise Serenity, welcome to my fine establishment. We offer whatever you desire for a price, feel free to take a look around, talk to the girls, have a drink, have a seat. Watch them dance,” her sales pitch was clearly well honed but when she noticed Eskel’s lack of interest in it she became more interested herself. “Or, perhaps you’d like something a little more different? Some men come here because we offer more than girls?” Her voice rising with a lilt of question.

“Perhaps,” Eskel breathed out, letting his eyes drift back over the young man in the black and white braies dancing on the table.

Marquise Serenity hummed to herself, “Jaques is a good choice, but you’d do yourself a disservice if you didn’t see some of the boys on the second floor before you made up your mind. Buy a drink or two, walk around and see what we have to offer. You can deal with any person directly, they’ll tell you their prices.”

“Thank you,” Eskel said quietly, then thinking of her words he added questioningly, “Bartender?”

“Straight ahead when you go up the stairs,” she smiled at him, he would spend plenty of gold here, his type always did.

 

Upstairs Eskel did go straight to the bar. He was only a little disappointed to find that they only sold wine and not hard alcohol or beers. At least the wine they sold was of course good wine. He smiled to himself as he shelled out for a bottle of Est Est, taking it and a glass before meandering through the glory that was the upper floor. The madame was right, there was a lot on offer here. Eskel spotted several more men, shirtless and clad only in braies, their bare chests shining in the low light. _They must rub oil on themselves to glisten like that,_ he thought to himself. Some were thin and lean, lanky and boyish. Not his type at all. Some were muscled and taller, with square jaws and broad shoulders. And _that_ , that definitely did something for Eskel. Seeing a big broad body, half naked and swaying its hips in an ungodly rhythm on top of a table made him ache.

One in particular, wearing dark navy blue braies that matched his bright blue eyes, was dancing on a table in front of an empty set of couches. His shoulder length blond hair was pulled into a low ponytail and his pale skin shimmered in the light. Eskel slid into one of the couches, setting his wine bottle on the table and taking a long drink from his cup as he looked appreciatively up at the man. He didn’t have the broadest shoulders there, but he definitely wasn’t a waif either. He had a chiseled jaw with sharp facial features and his chest, abdomen, and calf muscles rippled with every movement he made. He turned in a circle languorously swiveling his hips, letting his hand fall in between his slightly parted legs where it caressed his inner thigh through the blue braies, gripping the fabric there as he turned again to face Eskel.

Cock slowly swelling behind his leathers Eskel watched as the man swayed and swiveled. Gods he was intoxicating. Perky ass, and enticing ice blue eyes that seemed to tease Eskel. Every thrust and pull of the man's hips was beckoning Eskel closer, but Eskel held his ground, poured himself another glass of wine and drained it all too fast. Finally when he poured himself another only to realize the bottle was left empty, he decided his mind was made up.

“What’s your name?” Eskel let his husky voice float up to the man dancing in front of him.

“Brayden, sir. You like to watch me dance?” Brayden’s voice held a note of playfulness that went straight to Eskel’s gut.

“Y-yeah, I do. I’d like to do a lot more than that,” Eskel felt there was no need for pretense here, the man had been using his body to flirt with him for at least twenty minutes. It had been infinitely more of a turn on than having a whore hang off him from the moment he walked in the door.

“Mmm,” Brayden sucked his lower lip into his mouth, “I’ve never been bought by a witcher before…” Eskel laughed quietly to himself, it was the first time anyone had mentioned anything about it since he entered this establishment. “Are the rumors of your stamina true? Will you be paying me for an entire night?”

The idea had merit for Eskel, not having to rush, getting truly satisfy himself, and sleeping in a real bed at the end. “What would that cost me?” Eskel quirked an eyebrow.

“Now until morning, hmm lets say 250 gold,” Brayden’s eyes were calling to him again. It was a lot of gold to be sure. Eskel had it, and there was no denying he wanted to spend the whole night with this man. Shifting in his seat, Eskel’s cock was uncomfortably thick in his leathers, he spread his legs wider to get some small bit of relief.

“Alright,” Eskel’s voice was still low and husky. Gods he hoped he didn’t regret spending this much on one night.

Almost as if reading his mind Brayden winked at him, “You won’t regret a coin of it I promise. I’ll get us some wine and food, then show you to my room,” Brayden smoothly dropped off the table. He sauntered over to the barkeep and whispered something in her ear, looking back over his shoulder at Eskel. He dipped behind the bar and reappeared with a silver tray. The bartender began to pick items out of the cupboard behind her and Brayden arranged them neatly on the tray as she handed them to him. Grapes, bread, hard cheese, two apples, some type of jerky (venison if Eskel smelled correctly), and what looked like some freshly fried salt pork from the kitchens. Brayden grabbed a bottle of Count var Ochmann Shiraz from the rack and a spare glass. He walked back to Eskel with the tray perched on one hand and the wine bottle neck and glass threaded in the fingers of his other.

“Follow me sir,” he almost purred at Eskel as he turned and headed to the balcony door. Pushing his way through the door backwards into the evening light he looked levelly into Eskel’s eyes before guiding Eskel to the second door down on the balcony.

Once inside Brayden set the tray of food and wine on a small table near the door. Eskel noted that the room was smallish but not tiny. The largest feature was the plush bed with small night stands on either side. By the door was the small table that now held the food and a dresser over which stood the room’s lone window. Against the wall perpendicular to the dresser was a vanity complete with a mirror and wash basin pitcher combination. A padded stool sat in front of it. Hurricane lamps lit the walls. It looked comfortable, even if not lavish. Behind him Eskel heard the door click as it was locked and Brayden set a skeleton key on the table near the food. Pouring himself a glass of wine and then bringing the bottle over to Eskel to refill his empty glass as well Brayden darted his tongue out to catch a small rivulet of wine that was traveling down the neck of the bottle. Eskel’s cock twitched at the sight.

“How do you want me sir?”

Eskel took a long drink of his freshly poured wine to bide himself time. It wasn’t like he usually had… choices. Eskel sighed, smiling, and allowed himself to stare at the arousing man in front of him, “Well I… hadn’t really thought that far ahead?” His smile turned a bit sheepish and he rubbed his hand over his face momentarily.

“That’s not a problem at all,” Brayden set the bottle back on the table and took his wine sipping slowly as he approached Eskel again. “You’ve got all night anyway,” he slipped his arm around Eskel’s neck, “you can tell me what you like, and we can do each,” Brayden let his fingers scratch through Eskel’s dark hair, “and every one.”

Settling his free hand low on Brayden’s back, half on his braies half on his bare skin, Eskel pulled him in close. The action put Eskel’s straining cock, still trapped behind his leathers, up against Brayden’s muscled lower abdomen. Eskel breathed out in a rush before leaning down and capturing the man’s lips. They were supple and he opened his mouth easily under Eskel, letting Eskel explore his mouth to his desire. Eskel pressed his front against Brayden more firmly, delighting in the bit of friction he got there. Definitely not a bad idea to spend the gold.

Pulling away Eskel murmured, contentedly, “That sounds like an amazing plan.”

“Well you will need to remove some of this armor, sir,” Brayden eyed Eskel’s chest and let the back of his hand around Eskel’s neck nudge at one of his two sword hilts, “And possibly these?” Brayden’s eyes held a bit of question at that.

Eskel laughed, “I won’t fuck you with my swords on.”

“I never know, we do get some folks in here with… peculiar tastes,” but Brayden sounded relieved nonetheless.

Eskel stepped back, he made a point of removing his sword belt and looping it over one of the bottom bedposts, in reach but out of the way. _No worries about my tastes being_ that peculiar, he thought. Next he removed his potions belt, chest armor, gloves, and boots. Once Eskel was down to his linen undershirt and leathers, Brayden gestured to the food.

“Why don’t you lie down on the bed, sir and I’ll bring it over?” Brayden’s smile told Eskel this was something Brayden enjoyed so he followed the suggestion. He’d never asked for food after all, it had been Brayden’s doing. Reclining in the middle of the large bed, back supported by a multitude of too fluffy pillows, Eskel relaxed into it and drank his wine.

Brayden followed him over with the tray. Tearing off bits of bread and cheese he held them in front of Eskel’s mouth before Eskel hesitantly opened it. Odd, but Brayden’s face lit up as did, and his fingers guided the food into Eskel’s skeptical mouth. Eskel chewed diligently and swallowed before drinking some more wine. This process repeated several times before Eskel began to realize that it was actually quite relaxing, almost arousing, to be fed like a king. He’d never been treated with such reverence before, being only a lowly witcher, but here was a man who was clearly enjoying popping another grape into his mouth. Eskel grabbed his wrist and kissed Brayden’s fingers before they could retreat, then just as quickly let them go, a grin spreading across his face.

“Thank you, sir,” Brayden whispered quietly.

“You don’t have to call me sir when we’re in bed,” Eskel responded back just as quietly.

Brayden nodded and continued to feed Eskel until the tray was mostly empty. Then Eskel insisted Brayden eat the rest himself. As Brayden sat next to him eating the remains of the food, drinking a glass of wine, he prompted a now thoroughly relaxed Eskel gently to tell him what he liked. Eskel sipped his own wine slowly and tried not to let embarrassment seep back into his content state as he shared what he felt were his darkest desires with a man he’d just met. He was paying for this night though, and Brayden was a professional. If he was anything like Aldith he might even enjoy his work, he certainly seemed to.

“I enjoy using my mouth to please a man, letting them use theirs on me. I like being inside another man,” Eskel was watching Brayden’s reactions out of the corner of his eye but none of this seemed to surprise him in the least, “but only if they enjoy it,” Eskel quickly added.

“I don’t like causing pain, or being in pain myself,” Eskel saw Brayden nod at that. “You can… put your fingers in me, I-” Eskel hesitated, gods he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that, “-I like it when someone does that, but no more.”

“So you like your prostate stimulated but you don’t actually like to take another man inside of you?” Brayden questioned softly.

“My prostate?” Eskel wasn’t sure what Brayden was talking about.

“The little knot of nerves inside you there that brings about a strong orgasm for some men when stimulated. Is that why you enjoy having your ass played with?” Brayden was so calm when discussing this that Eskel felt slightly less awkward.

“I didn’t know it had a name. It's like being punched in the gut by pleasure, yes, but no I-” Eskel breathed out, not wanting to have to explain more, “-I wouldn’t enjoy a man putting his cock inside me at all.”

“All reasonable requests,” Brayden said nonchalantly.

Moving to set the silver tray back on the table Brayden stood at the end of the bed. Brayden slowly stripped out of his braies, “Which I am happy to oblige.”

Walking back to the side of the bed he made no effort to hide his half hard cock from Eskel as he opened the drawer on one of the bedside tables and withdrew a vial of oil. Crawling toward Eskel in the middle of the bed Brayden straddled him, rubbing his cock and neatly shaved balls over the stretched front of Eskel’s leathers. Brayden leaned over him, both hands splayed on the wall above for balance, and openly kissed him. His hips still undulated over Eskel’s pressing erection.

One of Brayden’s hands drifted down to play in the folds of Eskel’s linen shirt. He lifted it, teasing at the skin underneath, hesitating briefly over a scar here and a defect there. Brayden found a nipple and rolled his thumb over it, and Eskel moaned into his mouth. Eskel pushed him back far enough to get his shirt over his head and then pulled Brayden right back into another deep kiss, letting one hand find a luscious ass cheek and grip it as he rutted up against the other man.

“Fuck,” Eskel sighed when he finally broke the kiss and let his head fall back against the wall. “Need to get these off,” Eskel was trying to pull at the ties on his leathers.

“Indeed.” Brayden was already sliding down between Eskel’s legs, working the laces, loosening them, and slipping his fingers inside the waist to shimmy them down. Eskel lifted his hips helpfully and in short order his leathers and braies joined Brayden’s braies on the floor at the foot of the bed. Eskel grunted softly at the relief of having the offending clothing off his hard cock. With its new freedom Eskel’s stiff cock curved thickly upwards towards his tight abdomen, deep red and aching from spending the last hour aroused and confined at the same time.

Eskel let his legs fall more open to better accommodate Brayden as he began to kiss his way up from the inside of one of Eskel’s knees. Taking himself in hand Eskel slowly teased his cock, not wanting to work himself up too much more, but needing to take a little bit of the edge off as he stared down at the man working his way up his inner thigh.

Concentrating on the way those soft lips brushed the hair dusting the inside of his leg, Eskel shuddered lightly and gripped himself harder. Somewhere near the juncture of his hip and groin Brayden started sucking sweet deep marks into his skin and Eskel’s eyes slid shut. He couldn’t watch anymore or he might not make it much farther and would end up embarrassing himself by spilling too soon. Eskel held himself tightly to stave off just that, breathing deeply and only loosening his grip when he was sure he was back in control. The smell of lust was thick in the air on each breath, notes of salty rain and apple wood settling over Eskel’s senses. Where once the waft of his own arousal with another man disturbed Eskel, it was no longer overwhelming and he allowed himself to enjoy Brayden’s attentions.

Fingers lightly teasing back over his aching cock again Eskel moaned quietly as Brayden’s warm wet breath ghosted over it, his lips never touching. The pleasing hot trail of breath continued down over Eskel’s balls, warming them gently as his cock cooled again in its wake. Eskel pulled his lower lip in between his teeth hoping to hold back some of his noises but all hope of that was lost when he felt an all-encompassing heat swallow one of his balls and tug it gently away from his body. A gasp of shocked arousal escaped his mouth before he could stop it and Eskel’s eyes jerked open. Eskel’s hips desperately wanted to pull away, but with each twitch came a tug, and with each tug to his sac came a heated shot of pleasure deep in his belly. Brayden had him in such a vulnerable position, but gods above, below, and in between it was arousing.

Cock completely forgotten, Eskel had reached behind himself with one hand to grip the headboard in order to steady himself. The other hand lay gripping his own thigh as if to hold his own hips steady, to ease their twitching thrusts. Brayden looked up at Eskel through sex-hazed eyes as he palmed Eskel’s cock against his stomach and rubbed it, gently, up and down. Each upstroke heightened the tugging sensation and had Eskel panting, the downstrokes providing him a brief relief in which to catch his breath.

Eskel felt like he was swimming in a sea of ecstasy, no longer paying attention to anything but Brayden’s skillful mouth and hand. As Brayden stroked up Eskel’s cock yet again pressing it flush to his belly, precum dribbling from the head, the tug on Eskel’s sac felt deeper still, until his ball wetly popped free of Brayden’s mouth. Eskel’s brain didn’t have time to process whether he should be relieved that he was no longer being held so near the edge of his orgasm, or upset that it had ended before he had cum. His other ball was swiftly engulfed in the heat of Brayden’s mouth, leaving his brain to contemplate only the drastic temperature difference between Brayden’s mouth heat and the cooling saliva that coated the one now left behind. Brayden continued to stroked his open palm up and down Eskel’s cock, his fingertips playing in the precum drooling from the head. Eskel’s breathing was stuttering, short and quick. He probably would have cum already if not for Brayden’s other hand having circled around the base of his sac forming a ring that was helping him hold back.

“Sweet Meletile-” Eskel gasped out, “-I nee- need to cum.”

Brayden popped off Eskel’s sac, causing Eskel to groan in frustration, “What about that famous witcher stamina? I think you can hold out a little longer, can’t you? I have one more thing I want to do at least.” Brayden’s tongue flicked out like it had with the wine bottle earlier only this time he was licking up the precum dripping from Eskel’s cock.

“Ahh, fuuuck,” was the only response Eskel could muster. He probably _could_ hold off but he didn’t _want_ to. What he wanted to do was flip Brayden over and fuck him into the mattress properly. Right now. Brayden’s hands slipped behind his knees and urged him to slide down the bed. Allowing himself to be moved until his head was resting comfortably on the pillows, Eskel thought he’d do just about anything for release at this point.

Eskel almost tensed when Brayden’s hands pushed his knees back towards his head, worried about what Brayden intended to do by putting him in that position. But then the warmth of Brayden’s tongue was laving at his balls, licking long stripes up his sac, and the breath Eskel hadn’t known he had in him was rushing straight out of his chest. Licks, sucks, the barest hints of teeth, but never a nibble grazed over Eskel’s sac and he relaxed into it again. As Brayden’s hands wandered down to stroke Eskel’s cock, Eskel found himself reaching behind his knees to hold his legs up and out of the way so that Brayden would have the room he needed. Certainly Eskel felt open and exposed, but if he was honest with himself that was a bit of a rush. He’d told Brayden what he did and didn’t like, and everything Brayden had done so far was amazing.

Brayden again had one hand on Eskel’s cock and the other circling the base of his sac. The thumb behind his sac began gently stroking the strip of skin there, pressing more firmly against it now and again, before returning to soft caresses. Eskel was so lost in his own head, trying desperately to reign in the icy heat that pooled in his gut, tingling his groin and thighs, that he barely registered it except that the firm presses heated that place deep in his belly even more and made him groan. When Brayden’s warm tongue followed suit, dipping down from his balls to lick firmly at that skin under his thumb though, Eskel definitely took notice.

“AAaahh,” Eskel’s voice was shaky. He couldn’t take any more, he was sure. Brayden must have sensed it because he paused removing his hands from Eskel completely before placing them on the backs of Eskel’s thighs to help relieve some of the burden of holding his legs up. Eskel breathed in deep heaving breaths until he was back under control.

“Please,” Eskel begged quietly without even having any coherent thought about what he wanted to beg for. Just release.

And then Brayden’s hot talented mouth was covering Eskel’s asshole. Sucking around it and kissing at it, licking over it with broad swipes, teasing the rim with his lips as it quivered under his mouth. Eskel grunted roughly, dropping a hand from his knee to squeeze his cock harshly, stopping the orgasm that was threatening to rip right through him.

“FUCK!” Eskel shouted hoarsely. Brayden’s tongue licked and probed at his tender entrance, and Eskel was totally lost. Adrift at the thought of someone’s mouth there, waves of pleasure crashing through his body because it was so hot and slick where he was so vulnerable and sensitive. Yet Brayden never stopped, he licked and sucked until Eskel’s furl ached with need, then he pointed his tongue stiffly and pressed it into Eskel. Slipping past Eskel’s softened ring, just inside, to lick some more.

And Eskel sobbed with pleasure, “Please, oh fuck! PLEASE!”

Brayden slicked one finger with oil and kissed at Eskel’s softened hole once more before sliding it in with barely any resistance. Brayden moved his hand from the back of Eskel’s thigh to push away the hand that Eskel was gripping his cock with, letting Eskel’s leg rest over his own shoulder in the process. Then Brayden licked at the head of Eskel’s cock.

“Cum now, whenever you want, in my mouth,” Brayden’s voice was husky and lips were swollen from licking and sucking at Eskel’s balls and entrance. He took Eskel’s cock into his mouth and started to suck gently as his finger stroked over Eskel’s prostate in small motions.

The mouth around his cock was warm and inviting but Eskel could only concentrate on the heat in his gut and the way it peaked with each slow stroke of Brayden’s finger in his ass. Involuntarily his hips rocked down to grind against Brayden’s finger, seeking slightly more and more stimulation, until a second finger joined the first and Eskel moaned at the slight stretch. Two fingers inside him made the icy heat spread down his thighs though and Eskel knew there was no stopping it now. A few strokes of Brayden’s fingers later and Eskel was spasming in his mouth, and Brayden was swallowing down every drop.

“Gods! Oh sh-” Eskel’s hips pumped rhythmically against the bed and back into Brayden’s waiting mouth.

Brayden slowly pulled his mouth from Eskel and even more slowly removed his fingers. Eskel gripped Brayden’s wrist with his hand to stop him from withdrawing them as he was so sensitive and his ass was practically quaking around them.

“Fucking Hells!” Eskel was starting to laugh as he guided Brayden’s fingers away from himself, “You have to teach me how to do that to a man.”

“Gladly, sir,” Brayden replied as he crawled up and straddled Eskel once again, before leaning down for a kiss. It was salty and earthy and sweaty. That alone was enough to start to arouse Eskel again.

 

Witcher stamina was a beautiful thing sometimes, and Brayden had been right. It was going to be a long night. Aldith had been right as well, some brothels really were better than others.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot expressed how grateful I am to those of you who stick around despite my extra long absence this time. Know that the next chapter is already halfway done so it will be along in a week or so as usual! Eskel is 37yrs old in this chapter for reference so we still have a looong way to go. A rough guess is that by the time we hit chapter 11 or 12 I will be starting to catch up to the events of Witcher 1. This story will go all the way through Witcher 3 to post Blood and Wine most likely. So still planning on around 20 chapters.
> 
> Don't give up on me even if I disappear for a month again :) I have not abandoned you or Eskel!
> 
> Also I love feedback so don't hesitate to give me a comment.


	7. The Ealderman's Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Know a lot about witchers do you Henrik?” Eskel grinned.
> 
> “No, not particularly,” Henrick admitted finally looking over to Eskel from Fiorano, “but I do know a lot about horses, and I can’t understand why your’s won’t-”
> 
> Eskel took pity on the young man being affronted by his horse. He placed his hand directly over Henrik’s on the burlap, “-Because he doesn’t trust anyone but me. I am surprised he hasn’t bitten you,” again Eskel laughed. This poor boy, all he wants is my asshole horse’s affection. Eskel stepped over to Henrik and placed his other hand low on the small of Henrik’s back, startling him in a way he hadn’t intended too. Henrik calmed quickly though so Eskel didn’t pay it much attention. Eskel used it to guide him closer to Fiorano, and then shook the bag with their hands. Fiorano scented the air again and took a step towards them, finally nuzzling the grain and proceeding to eat.
> 
> Henrik let out a long protracted breath and Eskel laughed, “See, he’s just a stubborn asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _ **SO**_ much gratitude and appreciation to my wonderful beta [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion) who takes the time and energy to help turn my fast food word salad into a high quality juicy word steak!

The Ealderman’s house in Hawkesburn was modest but well built. Sturdy. Smaller than plenty of other Ealdermen’s houses Eskel had been in but no less well kept and furnished fittingly. Gregor sat across from Eskel at an antique wooden desk, smallish and intricately carved, going over the details of the contract.

“The spector appears during the day, strangely. It haunts the old farmhouse by river where Sven used to live,” Gregor explained plainly.

“And Sven?” Eskel questioned. Few spectors appeared in the day so he was already suspicious as to what the creature might be and how it might have come to be.

“He was so traumatized by the beast that he fled. Poor man. Things had been rough for him of late. He was to be wed soon but his bride ran off before they could marry. It must all have been too much for him. He left behind the farm that had been in his family for generations and hasn’t been seen in at least a month. Terribly sad,” Gregor seemed genuinely upset for Sven. Eskel harrumphed.

“His bride, she have family here?” Eskel knew he would need to visit them, find what was tying her here.

“The Claremonts. Her father is the local tailor. You can find them at their shop, though I am not sure why you’d need to speak to them, she ran off just before the beast even showed itself,” Gregor looked perplexed.

“Let’s just say I have my reasons, this is my job after all,” Eskel sighed in exasperation. Why were people such monsters? He’d loved to get his hands on Sven, but he was clearly already long gone.

 

As he was leaving the Ealderman’s house Eskel noticed someone standing by the stable where Fiorano was tied. The man was young, lean, well dressed, with messy sandy brown hair grown out a tad too long and olive skin visible where his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbow. He held a stiff burlap pouch in his hand and was facing Fiorano, preventing Eskel from seeing his face.

Walking directly up and patting Fiorano’s muzzle Eskel turned to look at the man, well boy practically. After seeing his face Eskel realized just how young he was despite the sparse beard he sported. His gray green eyes were drawn together in confused frustration as he stared at Fiorano fondly, not really paying attention to Eskel.

“I wanted to treat your stallion to some sweet molasses oats,” the young man shook the burlap bag in his hand temptingly, and Fiorano sniffed the air as the oats shifted in it, “but he seems quite… recalcitrant to makes friends.”

_ That is far to big of a word for a stable boy, _ Eskel thought to himself and snickered quietly. Not many people wanted to be fond of his horse.

“Fiorano can be kind of an ass,” Eskel stated frankly, “but witchers don’t need friendly horses, just smart ones.”

“Horses  _ like _ me though,” the young man sounded insulted.

“What’s your name kid?” Eskel asked smirking.

“Henrik, and I am not a kid. I’ll have you know I have seen some 20 years, nearly as many as you I’d imagine,” there was a huff to Henrik’s words. Eskel realized then that he wasn’t used to seeing himself as others did. He might be nearly fifty but The Trials meant that the only real outward signs he showed of the passage of that time were scars. This kid had no idea.

“Know a lot about witchers do you Henrik?” Eskel grinned.

“No, not particularly,” Henrik admitted finally looking over to Eskel from Fiorano, “but I do know a lot about horses, and I can’t understand why your’s won’t-”

Eskel took pity on the young man being affronted by his horse. He placed his hand directly over Henrik’s on the burlap, “-Because he doesn’t trust anyone but me. I am surprised he hasn’t bitten you,” again Eskel laughed.  _ This poor boy, all he wants is my asshole horse’s affection. _ Eskel stepped over to Henrik and placed his other hand low on the small of Henrik’s back, startling him in a way he hadn’t intended too. Henrik calmed quickly though so Eskel didn’t pay it much attention. Eskel used it to guide him closer to Fiorano, and then shook the bag with their hands. Fiorano scented the air again and took a step towards them, finally nuzzling the grain and proceeding to eat.

Henrik let out a long protracted breath and Eskel laughed, “See, he’s just a stubborn asshole.”

They stood there for a while as Fiorano munched away on the sweet grain, Eskel didn’t bother to move his hand away from Henrik’s back, or the other from where it covered Henrik’s on the grain bag. After a few minutes Eskel noticed the tangy sweet smell of arousal in the air. To his shock it wasn’t his own. Henrik was standing stiffly against his arm as if not moving might make it go away. Thinking back to his younger days Eskel could empathize but knew it wouldn’t work either.

As if on cue, Fiorano shoved at their hands with his muzzle. Pushing the now empty grain bag away to show that he was, officially, done with all this.

“Well I think he’s content now. He’s shown you who’s boss,” Eskel smiled to put Henrik at ease.  _ No judgment from me kid, maybe you’ll figure it out someday, hopefully sooner than I did. _ Eskel shifted his hands off Henrik and went to work untying the stallion. He did have actual work to get to, before he let his mind wander. To his surprise Henrik stepped back and then let out a smooth rolling laugh.

“You are right he did. He is an asshole,” Eskel could hear the smile in Henrik’s words. “Well I suppose I will see you around when you return from your contract.”

“Oh?” Eskel was taken aback a little at the interest in his own voice.

“Yes. I am Gregor’s son, so I will likely be here when you return. Perhaps I can even convince the stingy old man to feed you in addition to your regular pay,” with that Henrik turned and walked away from the stable leaving Eskel to stare at his admittedly supple ass as he left.  _ Should have known. _

 

Eskel shoved any thoughts of Henrik to the back of his mind as he sought out the tailor’s shop. He confirmed his suspicions that Celia Claremont had just up and disappeared a week before her marriage to Sven was to be completed, mere days before the first sighting of the ‘beast’ at noon. It was a marriage of gold and convenience, not love of course. The tailor admitted he was going through hard times, Sven was older than most bachelors in the village, but he had agreed that rather than take a dowry he would willingly provide meat, milk, and grains from the farm to not just his new wife but her extended family as well. It would be a small help, but some was better than none.

Then Celia had up and disappeared along with the beautiful silk dress her father had made for her to marry in. The hauntings daily at the farm started shortly thereafter and Sven, mad with grief or trauma or both, had run as well. Everyone was afraid to go near the place now.

Checking the sun Eskel knew he needed to wait until mid afternoon at least before going out to the farm on the banks of the Yaruga. No point in facing a noonwraith before he could set it to rest for good. It was probably the dress. He went to the local tavern and bought himself a good Mahakaman Mead and hard roll stacked with thick slices of cold salty ham, pungent cheese, and crushed mustard seeds. After a second mead, his hunger sated, he rode Fiorano out of town to where the Ealderman had indicated the abandoned farm lay.

Sure enough the fields were wild and overgrown. Planted with care in the spring but left untended by man since. Eskel dismounted and tapped Fiorano on the flank to send him away. He’d return quickly with a whistle and though the villagers were loathe to approach this place, bandits, bears, and all manner of other things might not be wiser.

Eskel’s caution was unwarranted though. As he made his way up the fields and crept into the farmhouse he encountered no signs of life human, animal, or monster. The interior of the house was covered in a fine layer of dust. Cupboards stood open and items strewn about. It was clear Sven had been in a panicked hurry when he decided to leave. Eskel continued to map out the lower level finding nothing of interest before moving on to the second floor. It was much smaller, only an open area used as a den with a desk and shelves and a door that led to the master bedroom. The door was locked but that had never stopped Eskel before. A strong Aard took care of it, sending wooden splinters flying inward. In the bedroom Eskel found what he was looking for, what he had expected since he had spoken with Gregor. The rotting corpse was sprawled out on the floor past the bed, evening light streaming through the window highlighted the sapphire blue silk gown clutched in the corpses twisted fingers. The blue was tainted with rusty stains Eskel knew to be blood. 

He would never know why Sven had killed her. Eskel would give her rest though. He set about removing the remains from the house. Building a small pyre in front of the porch of what should have become her home and placing her on it with her dress. Then Eskel meditated for the rest of the night. Come morning he whistled for his stallion and dug through his supplies for specter oil and a few moon dust bombs. He downed some trail rations from his pack before sending Fiorano back on his way. Sitting on the porch Eskel methodically sharpened his swords, coated the silver in specter oil, checked his potions and bombs and then waited. Shortly before high noon Eskel sparked the pyre with Igni and took up his stance.

Eskel heard her before he saw her. Dropping a Yrden in the direction of the noise he turned and saw her struggle in the bonds of the trap. The moon dust bomb caused her to shriek in an ungodly way as it forced her body into the physical plane. Eskel swung and slashed at her and the sounds of her wails deafened his ears. 

She was gone and then she was everywhere. Gods he hated it when they did that. He swirled as they all converged on him at once, twirling his blade above and around himself. A slice here and a cut there caused the false brides to discorporate around him until only the real one remained. She shrieked at him again. The second moon dust bomb hit its mark at her feet and Eskel didn’t hesitate to run her through. She didn’t want to be here anymore than he did. The least he could do was grant her release. There was no shriek. No wail. The fields around the house were quiet. So was Eskel as he searched the house and barn for two sacks. One for the wraith ashes that would serve as his trophy. Proof of a job well done. Another for the ashes of the pyre, peace for her family. Something no one would pay him for. He would never let them.

 

When Eskel was finished he was filthy. This went a level beyond days on The Path and sleeping on the ground, he reeked and he knew it. Fishing a bar of lye soap out of his pack as soon as he’d secured the bags to the saddle Eskel trekked over to the banks of the Yaruga and stripped naked. He had spare braies and an extra shirt, so he quickly rinsed away anything rotten from his leathers and laid them on the rocks in the shade to dry. The water was cold as fuck and Eskel hissed as he rushed through soaping himself and his hair. Rinsing as fast as he could he laid himself out on a large flat rock to heat back up in the sun. _ Should have just paid for a damn bath at the inn. At least the sun feels good now. _

A while later his leathers were dry and he’d applied some of the ointment he made up to keep his leather items in good shape. Dressed in his leathers again and spare shirt, swords strapped on as usual, he still felt utterly naked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d trotted around anywhere but Kaer Morhen not wearing his chest armor. Hells he slept in it! He shifted uncomfortably on his stallion as he rode through Hawkesburn to the tailor’s shop.  _ Priorities Eskel _ _,_ he told himself, _ get over it. You can wash it at the inn. _ Celia’s father was heartbroken, though thankful beyond measure through his grief. The rest of her family was less than surprised. They had long ago assumed the worst, having known Celia would not run away. Their grief leaned more towards anger.

Next Eskel rode to the Ealderman’s house. Henrik answered rather than Gregor. As soon as Eskel saw the young man’s smooth face framed by that tousled hair and short sparse beard, he remembered how Henrik had stiffened up against him when Henrik had realized he was aroused by Eskel’s innocent touch. Eskel wished he could do something to let Henrik know he would be alright, that maybe it would get better someday. Eskel certainly wished someone had done that for him.

Henrik greeted him with a stiff smile, “My father has stepped out for business but he should be back very shortly. Please, come in if you like.”

“Thanks,” Eskel stepped inside, setting his trophy bag right inside the door.

Henrik was staring at him, and Eskel felt warm. Henrik opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it. Then it opened again, “Did you- was your armor damaged during your contract witcher?”

“Oh!” Gods, he was still walking around in his leathers and shirt, swords on his back. Eskel rushed to explain, “No. No, I just was covered in rotting… stuff. It happens on contracts, but I stunk so I took a dip in the river, rinsed my leathers but my chest armor has a lot more small nooks and crannies. It takes a long time to clean and dry. I didn’t want to put it back on. It reeks.”

“Ahh, I see. Well that makes sense. Why bathe and then put on dirty clothes,” Henrik began moving into the main room his eyes finally pulled away from Eskel’s chest.

“Pretty much,” Eskel didn’t follow.

Henrik turned around to face him, “As I said my father will be back shortly, I was just finishing up making dinner. You’re welcome to join me in the kitchen. In fact you could bring your armor and wash it if you’d like. There is a basin and both castille and lye soap.”

“I don’t think you would want to smell my armor while you cook, but thanks for the offer,” Eskel was trying to be polite but he didn’t think the kid knew what he would be getting himself into there.

“I assure you I am not as delicate as you think, witcher,” Henrik snorted as he turned and walked away to the kitchen.

Eskel wanted to kick himself, he’d insulted the kid just like his horse had. Fine, he went out the door to the stable and retrieved his rank chest armor and gloves before he strode back into the house. Thankfully it was small enough that it wasn’t a hassle finding the kitchen. Henrik was at the sideboard chopping asparagus. He looked pleased to see Eskel join him. Pausing to set down the knife, Henrik pulled a tub from the corner. In it were indeed a bar of castille soap and a bar of lye, along with a ribbed washboard. 

“Be right back,” Henrik said as he moved out the side door.

Eskel marveled that the man hadn’t gagged at the smell coming off his armor. He sat on a low bench next to the tub waiting. A few short minutes later Henrik returned, turning sideways through the door as he entered, a milkmaid’s yoke across his shoulders with a large bucket of water on each end. 

Eskel jumped to his feet to help, but was shooed away promptly.

“We don’t keep a servant, and my mother’s been dead for years. I do this every day, several times a day, witcher. Relax,” Henrik’s explanation was rather blunt, but it did explain why the Ealderman’s son was cooking dinner. “Now wash you items.”

Eskel did relax after that. Henrik was obviously not bothered by the smell. Based on what he said maybe he wasn’t as pampered as Eskel had assumed either. The smell of Eskel’s washing was soon overtaken by the delightful smell of asparagus and morels being fried together anyway.

They chatted aimlessly, about Henrik’s obsession with horses, farming, and orchards. Apparently Henrik had talked his father into allowing him to start an orchard of almond trees when he was thirteen. This was a great passion of his that was turning profitable, second only to horses. Henrik asked a few questions about Eskel’s work. He seemed annoyed that Eskel wasn’t usually offered a meal along with his pay. Henrik admitted he didn’t know much about witchers and Eskel had a good laugh at that, telling him that he was as old as Henrik’s father. That made Henrik’s eyebrows shoot up his face.

“I admit, I would not be cut out to be a witcher,” Henrik offered. “I am not physically weak, or mentally slow, but I am not exceptional either. I am just average. The only draw to it is that no one would be pressing me to find a wife and get married.”

Eskel nodded knowingly, “You never have to follow those pressing suggestions anyway if you don’t want to, you just have to be careful how you go about it.”

“Excuse me? What is that supposed to-” Henrik was taken completely off guard but couldn’t question Eskel more because the front door had slammed. Gregor’s angry footsteps tromped through the entryway and down the hall to the kitchen.

“Ah, so you’ve completed the contract?” Gregor did not look like he was in the mood for small talk, let alone a shared dinner.

Eskel stood up, scooping up his drying armor and gloves, “Yes sir. Bag by the door has the ashes of your local noonwraith in it. I can see you’re in a hurry so I won’t keep you. If I can just collect my reward I’ll be on my way.”

Henrik looked flustered off to Eskel’s side, flustered and bit angry.

“Meet me in my office Master Witcher and you shall have your coin,” Gregor said. “Henrik, I am afraid I won’t be able to stay for dinner as good as it smells, somethings come up in Spalla. As soon as I’ve settled things with the witcher I’ll be off. I don’t know when I’ll be back but it won’t be any time soon.” 

Eskel went to fetch the bag by the front door and headed to Gregor’s office. As he passed back by the kitchen he could easily overhear the hushed conversation between father and son.

_ “This is why I keep telling you to find a wife Henrik! I Could be gone for two weeks and all you will do is stand around the stables talking to the horses like some nutter!” _

_ “Father! I don’t wish to discuss this right now. It’s not that simple. I can’t just marry some woman I… I don’t even…” _

_ “Love? You think I loved your mother in the beginning? I didn’t but I did come to love her and she gave me you Henrik. It comes in time.” _

_ “Father, please. Just go pay the witcher.” _

Eskel entered Gregor’s office and placed the bag on the antique desk. He felt for Henrik, he really did. Eskel was shortly joined by Gregor. A quick peek in the bag and Gregor was counting out the coins. Once everything was settled Gregor rushed off to pack the few items he needed. Eskel made his way back out to the stables. He was methodically going through his packs, trying to decide how best to store his still slightly damp armor and gloves when Gregor hurried into the stables followed closely by Henrik. After a terse goodbye Gregor rode off despite the fact that dusk was setting. Whatever was happening in Spalla was clearly urgent. Eskel vaguely wondered if he should head that way next, but it might be purely political and Gods he hated politics.

Eskel was startled by a warm hand on his forearm. Damn his lack of armor and gloves!

“Please come back in and stay for dinner?” Henrik’s eyes looked a little too soft and pleading and Eskel couldn’t say no.

“Alright.”

 

The morels were divine. Eskel would have to remember this combination. Morels were easy to forage for in many forests, and asparagus was common along ditches, creeks, and rivers. This was something he could actually cook over a fire on The Path. Eskel made sure to compliment Henrik and tell him that. Henrik blushed slightly at the praise, and Eskel found it rather endearing. Along with the mushrooms and asparagus Henrik had made some amaranth seasoned with spices, almonds, and a little bit of oil.

Henrik cleared the dishes away and Eskel was thanking him again for the meal when Henrik’s hand settled on Eskel’s arm again.

“Before my Father came back you were saying something about not having to let other people’s suggestions press me into things. What did you mean?” Henrik was staring Eskel directly in the eyes again and those gray green pools were like a deep view into Eskel's own youthful angst-ridden soul. Why did he even open his mouth, this man was hardly half his age. Eskel crossed his arms in front of himself defiantly but Henrik’s hand stayed intent on his forearm regardless.

“I just- there was a time when maybe I felt like I should be a certain kind of man in order to meet other people's expectations,” Eskel let out a rush of breath, “and it never did me any good. Maybe you feel like you should follow people’s suggestions because its expected but that’s just not who you are? Then don’t. It won’t do you any good either. Just be careful about who you let see who you really are and you will be fine.”  _ Vague enough not to get me run out of town with a pitchfork? _ Eskel wondered. He tried to ignore that despite being half his age Henrik was quite an attractive young man. That and Eskel’s own growing desire to show Henrik exactly how fine he could really make him feel. Age and experience had its advantages after all.

Henrik’s other hand came to rest on Eskel’s folded forearms as well and Eskel tried to steady his thoughts and calm his body. “And what about you? Am I being careful enough with you?” Henrik’s voice sounded unsure, but his eyes said touch me please.

“You think a random witcher on his way through town is a good idea to show who you really are to?” Eskel quirked his eyebrow up at Henrik a small smile forming on his lips. The longer Eskel stood there the more he wanted to show Henrik it would be worth it though.

“I think,” Henrik licked his lips, “that you are a good man. Who understands me. And I’ve never met a man who understands me. I’d rather share myself with someone who does than remain untouched for the rest of my life.”

Eskel’s cock reacted obscenely to that and he choked out, “Untouched?” His hands fell to Henrik’s hips

“Yes,” Henrik’s answer was a quiet whisper but he was still holding Eskel’s gaze, “that’s not a problem is it?”

Fucking Hells. Why was that thought absurdly attractive to some deep primal part of Eskel’s brain?

“No,” Eskel walked Henrik slowly backwards until his ass bumped into the table and his hands found their way up to Eskel’s shoulders to rest lightly there. “Not at all. You just have to tell me if I do anything you don’t like.” Eskel let his lips cover Henrik’s for a moment, the scrape of his beard felt curious against Eskel’s clean shaven face. Pulling back for a moment Eskel threaded his fingers in Henrik’s hair, gripping lightly he tilted Henrik’s head back to look in his eyes. Those mossy green granite irises were being swallowed by dilated pools of black, and it made Eskel want more. To do more. Give more. Show Henrik more pleasure, in the way Eskel wished someone had shown him at that age. Then maybe he could have done better with Geralt. But he didn’t want to think about that right now, this was about Henrik, teaching Henrik how good it could be when it was done right. So Eskel dove back in to capture his mouth, teasing at Henrik’s lips with his tongue, until they parted to allow Eskel’s tongue in to explore more. The quiet groan that formed in the back of Henrik’s throat only spurred Eskel on. 

Moving his hands down to cup Henrik’s ass, Eskel hoisted him up setting him on the edge of the table. Eskel’s thighs nudged in between Henrik’s knees, spreading his legs, and Eskel pushed forward until he was settled flush against Henrik’s body. Hips nestled tightly against Henrik’s inner thighs as they pressed back against Eskel. There was a delightful quiver in Henrik’s legs, a slight shyness Eskel couldn’t get enough of.

A sword-roughened palm skittered from Henrik’s ass over his hip and under the hem of his linen shirt to caress the soft skin of his belly and draw a soft gasp out of him as Eskel pulled back from his mouth. Eskel began a trail of kisses along Henrik’s jaw, up to his ear where he paused to suck at the sensitive skin there.

“So handsome,” Eskel whispered compliments in his ear, “Generous, kind. Gonna make you feel so good.”

The kisses traveled down the column of Henrik’s neck, and Eskel was careful not to leave any lasting marks. Henrik needed no questioning about something so obvious. Eskel’s palm slid up Henrik’s chest, bringing his shirt up with it, and he mirrored the action with his other hand on Henrik’s back, his fingers tracing over the protrusions and dips of each vertebrae on Henrik’s spine. The shirt lifted over his head and discarded on the floor without a care, Henrik sat half naked on the dining table, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, as Eskel returned to mouthing kisses over his neck. Eskel noted how Henrik’s breathing sped when he let his thumb roll over a flat nipple. Lowering his mouth to Henrik’s chest he kissed a path towards his thumb and then replaced it with his mouth. Sucking just shy of hard on Henrik’s now pebbled bud, flicking it with his tongue. Eskel spread his other hand wide across Henrik’s back pulling him in close, not letting him escape the sensation.

A sensuous moan fell from Henrik’s mouth and Eskel found Henrik’s hand tangled in his hair, not pulling him away, but gripping, fingers twining, looking for something to hold on to.

“Tha-” Henrik was at a loss of words, “-Gods, that feels,” he tried to catch his breath, “so. Good.”

Eskel murmured an affirmation against Henrik’s nipple as he continued to lick and suck at it, giving it a quick squeeze between his teeth before kissing it lightly and moving to the other one.

“Ngh,” Henrik couldn't form a real word at the quick bite of teeth that sent a jolt to his cock.

Slowly Eskel moved both hands around and down to tease the laces of Henrik’s pants open. Making sure not to rush Henrik leaving him ample time to protest if he wanted. No protest was forthcoming though, and Henrik continued to guide Eskel’s mouth on his chest, fingers curled blissfully in that chestnut hair.

When Eskel finally managed to pry himself away from Henrik’s hands the sight that greeted him went straight to his groin. Henrik looked completely debauched. Lips slightly swollen, nipples red and puffy, chest heaving with fast breaths, and eyes glazed over. His arms rested out at his sides, hands gently set against the table to help steady himself, his legs had fallen open and stayed there relaxed. The laces on his pants were undone and his braies were peaking through, helped along by the obvious bulge behind them.

Eskel focused on the sounds of Henrik’s deep and fast breathing as he knelt down removed first one of Henrik’s boots and then the other. Skimming his hands up Henrik’s thighs Eskel raised himself back up between Henrik’s legs, his thumbs reflexively caressing the junction of Henrik’s hips. Resting his forehead against Henrik’s Eskel kissed him softly before pulling back to look him in the eyes, cocking his head slightly. 

“You can tell me no at any time,” Eskel wanted Henrik understood he could change his mind. That this was his decision to make. 

“I know,” Henrik smiled at him, “but I don’t want to. I want nothing more than for you to hurry up and stuff your prick in me witcher.”

A laugh bubbled out of Eskel at that statement, “Oh no. See there is where you are wrong. You definitely want me to get you loose and slick first. Trust me on this, you don’t want to rush it.” Eskel’s thumbs grazed over the swell of Henrik’s cock, still hidden behind his braies, and the hitch of Henrik’s breath was music to Eskel’s ears. “Don’t worry though, I’ll take my time, and as eager as you think you are now will be nothing compared to how you’ll feel when I am ready to take you.”

The trust Eskel saw in Henrik’s eyes looking back at him wasn’t something Eskel was one hundred percent sure he had earned yet, but he would. Eskel would show him pleasure he’d only imagined and would be careful not to cause him any unnecessary pain. Eskel knew himself and he believed Henrik to be right when he had judged him to be a good man.

“Please…” Henrik was whispering, “Please touch me more.”

The whisper interrupted Eskel’s internal thoughts and he realized his thumbs were still grazing repetitively over Henrik’s erection. Eskel cupped it fully in one hand, leaning back in to kiss Henrik, giving the young man what he’d asked for. A moan hitched and caught in Henrik’s throat before tumbling from his mouth. Eskel massaged Henrik through his braies, gently at first and then more firmly in response to the sinful noises Henrik made. Tracing the outline of his cock through the linen, grasping it, running his palm up the length of it, thumbing the head and watching as Henrik’s eyes shuttered closed at the sensations.

Eventually when Henrik’s moans had turned to high whines and gasps, Eskel splayed a hand against Henrik’s back, pressing the other against his shoulder to tip him back slowly guiding him to lay back onto the table. Ass still precariously near the edge, spread legs dangling over with Eskel still between them, Henrik lay on the dining room table as Eskel blazed a trail of hot wet kisses down his chest, pausing to suck a nipple, before moving on again, unrelentingly down the middle of his abdomen. Eskel stopped right above Henrik’s braies, licking a teasing line above them while staring up at Henrik. Hooking his finger into the waist of Henrik’s trousers Eskel easily lifted Henrik’s hips off of the table slightly. Slowly he inched Henrik’s pants and braies down, over his ass, letting his swollen cock bob free. Pushing the clothing into a pile on the floor Eskel wasted no time before nuzzling his face right up against Henrik’s cock.

“Ohh!” Henrik’s cry was surprised but certainly pleased.

Eskel inhaled deeply, Henrik smelled like so good- strong salty arousal with nutty hints from picking, shelling and grinding those fresh almonds he grew. There was even the faint underlying hint of horses and stables in there. Not that Eskel would ever tell a lover they smelled like a stable, but to Eskel it was comforting and erotic. Eskel mouthed the head of Henik’s cock, licking at it and then sucking it in between his lips. He teased the exposed head and slit with the tip of his tongue, swirling around it and pulling Henrik in deeper.

“Mmm,” Eskel moaned around Henrik’s cock. It had been quite a while since Eskel had done this, and he’d almost forgotten how much he loved pleasing a man with his mouth.

“Oh,” Henrik’s hand tangled back up in Eskel’s hair, “Oh Melitele! Gods!” Henrik’s hips were twitching as though he wanted to buck up into Eskel’s mouth but with his legs dangling he had no leverage.

Eskel closed his own eyes and let himself fall into the pleasure of Henrik on his tongue. Hollowing his cheeks he pulled Henrik in deep until his cock bumped at the back of Eskel’s throat, humming around it, knowing how that would feel on Henrik’s cock, Eskel set a leisurely pace. It lasted only a few minutes at most, Eskel sliding up and down Henrik’s cock, blissfully floating at the feel of it in his mouth, before Eskel sensed the urgency in Henrik’s breathing, the racing in his heartbeat.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to cum!” Henrik panted out, slight panic edging into his voice. “Please, witcher!”

When Henrik’s cock bumped the back of his throat again Eskel relaxed deeply and swallowed. Henrik shouted as the head of his cock slipped into Eskel’s throat. Swallowing again, burying his nose against the base of Henrik’s cock Eskel reveled in the smell of arousal all around him. Palming himself roughly through his leathers as Henrik came down his throat Eskel groaned. Fuck he did love sucking a man’s cock.

“Ngh!!” Henrik held Eskel’s head against himself tightly for a brief moment before he seemed to realize what he was doing and abruptly let go allowing Eskel to pull away. Chest was heaving, and out of breath, as he threw an arm over his face mumbling, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Eskel’s voice was rougher than normal, “I really enjoy that.”

“You do?” Henrik sounded a little incredulous at the thought, and Eskel stretched up to lean over him fully, pushing Henrik’s arm off of his face. There was an attractive blush there now that he was distracted by his own arousal, and his eyebrows were pushed up a little still trying to comprehend Eskel’s statement. Leaning in to kiss him, Eskel knew full well that Henrik would taste himself there.

“I do.”

 

Eskel stayed draped over Henrik for a while, kissing him deeply, touching him softly on his arms, shoulders, and side, supporting his own weight on one arm so as not to crush Henrik. Henrik’s breathing slowed and his heart rate settled.

“There are other things if you’re still interested,” Eskel ventured.

“Melitele. As good as that?” Henrik nearly giggled.

“Yes. Maybe better,” Eskel’s voice wasn’t so roughed up anymore, it was friendly, open- honest.

“Then yes,” Henrik sighed, “Please. Show me.”

“Mmm alright,” Eskel nipped at Henrik’s ear, “but I need oil.”

“Uhm,” Henrik thought for only a moment, “There’s sweet almond oil still on the sideboard in the kitchen from dinner?”

“Perfect,” Eskel wondered if Henrik was stiff from laying there yet, “But I doubt you want me to take you on the dining room table…” There was a kind tone to Eskel's voice and he was smiling against Henrik’s ear.

Henrik smiled up at the ceiling, “Well I do have a proper bedroom witcher.”

“Stay right here,” Eskel ordered softly, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

The almond oil was right were Henrik had said it would be on the sideboard, Eskel corked it and hurried back out to the dining room to see Henrik still laid out on the table. Eskel slotted himself back between Henrik’s legs and slid his hands under Henrik’s shoulders bringing him upright. Henrik naturally put his arms around Eskel’s shoulders. Eskel put his hands under Henrik’s knees and urged him to close his legs around his waist.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Eskel said, kissing Henrik on the neck as he hoisted him up and moved his hands to cup under his ass, almond oil still in his grip. “Where’s your room?”

“Door on the right, across from Father’s office,” Henrik replied, linking his ankles behind Eskel’s back as ordered.

Eskel carried Henrik down the short hall from the dining room. Henrik wasn’t a particularly small man, but Eskel was strong and a witcher on top of it, which made carrying the other man the short distance light work. Pushing open the door Eskel’s eyes easily adjusted to the dimness inside. Finding the bed and laying Henrik out on it Eskel set the oil on the nightstand and flicked the hurricane lamp to life with Igni. Looking back at Henrik, Eskel saw his mouth had formed a small ‘o’ in surprise at the casual use of his Sign.

“What?” Eskel grinned at Henrik, “Being a witcher has to be good for something besides killing monsters and good sex.” 

Eskel laughed unlacing his leathers, sitting on the side of the bed to take off his boots and after a moment Henrik joined him laughing. Eskel left his leathers and boots on the floor where they fell. Then they were both laughing and Eskel had taken off his shirt and was laying next to Henrik naked except for his braies. Eskel snaked his arm out under Henrik’s neck and pulled him in closer to kiss his neck again, his other hand wandering down Henrik’s side to squeeze the cheek of his ass. Henrik’s laugh crept into soft sighs and he was relaxed and pliant under Eskel’s hands. Hitching Henrik’s leg over his hip Eskel continued to rub and squeeze his ass, all while letting his own hips thrust patiently up against Henrik’s softened cock. Eskel was in no hurry here. Haltingly at first but with more confidence over time Henrik began to kiss Eskel’s body. Lips first, then jaw and neck, eventually moving to his shoulders where his mouth lingered. Eskel let his sounds encourage Henrik on, taking Henrik’s hand and placing it on his chest, showing him how he liked his own nipples to be rubbed and tugged at.

Encouraged by the way Henrik’s eyes glinted at seeing Eskel in pleasure Eskel rolled Henrik onto his back freeing himself to discard his braies. Henrik’s eyes widened when he saw Eskel’s bare cock for the first time as he knelt on the bed fully naked but Eskel quickly distracted him with a hand on his own cock which was half hard again.

“Do you want to touch it?” Eskel asked him in a low voice.

Henrik’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and closed his eyes before answering quietly with a simple, “Yes.”

“Then here,” Eskel took Henrik’s hand again and led it to his thick cock.

Henrik’s touches were tentative at first, that slight shyness was back and it was killing Eskel with the way it made his cock throb under Henrik’s fingers.

“Yea, just like that,” Eskel encouraged Henrik, “That feels good.”

Henrik continued to explore Eskel’s cock, getting more brazen as he went, wrapping his fingers around it, stroking up it and pulling a moan from Eskel. Eskel let his hips rock into it a little bit, sliding himself through Henrik’s fingers in an imitation of what he planned to do shortly before he had to give a tug on his sac to slow himself down.

“Roll over for me,” Eskel’s voice had gone low and gravelly again and Henrik did as he was asked without hesitation.

Admiring the smooth skin tanned where the sun had kissed Henrik’s arms and calves, lighter olive where it was always hidden by clothes, Eskel reached for the oil on the nightstand and then put one knee in between Henrik’s.

Eskel felt Henrik’s legs tense ever so slightly next to his knee. Setting the oil on the bed, Eskel ran his hands up the backs of Henrik’s thighs, “If this doesn’t feel good, you say something alright?” Eskel insisted

“Alright,” Henrik’s response was quiet and further muffled by the fact that he had buried his face in his arms. Eskel’s keen hearing could still make it out though and it reassured him. Eskel didn’t want Henrik’s first time with this to be anything like his own had been.

Using steady deliberate movements Eskel rearranged Henrik’s legs to make room for himself between them. Once he was seated on his knees there Eskel began to massage Henrik’s thighs skillfully using some oil, working up towards his ass, watching the rise and fall of Henrik’s back as he breathed. Henrik was still nervous, that much Eskel could easily tell, but the rhythmic massage strokes were grounding. Breathes became more steady, deeper, and in rhythm with Eskel’s strokes. When Henrik was arching his ass up into Eskel’s hands to meet them Eskel pushed Henrik’s knees farther out to his sides, opening him up more and causing Henrik to gasp. Running his thumbs up the inside of Henrik’s thighs to the bottom of his ass Eskel let his thumbs delve into Henrik’s cleft slightly before spreading him open to look at his softly clenching rosebud. Icy heat pooled in his gut and Eskel was unable to resist burying his face there and licking over that tightly furled entrance.

“UNGHaa!” Henrik sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, “Wha- What are you doing?!”

Eskel could hear Henrik’s heart racing in his chest and he licked over Henrik’s tender pucker again, swirling his tongue around the edges of it this time, “Do you not like it?”

“I,” Henrik buried his face back in his arms again, “I do.”

Eskel went back to licking, tonguing at the rim and placing broad strokes over the whole area.

“It’s jus-” Henrik’s words were still muffled by his arms but Eskel could hear them easily, “so dirty. I shouldn’t.”

Eskel hushed him, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting what feels good.” Eskel felt Henrik relax then under his hands and against his mouth. He continued to kiss and lick at Henrik’s rosebud until Henrik was mewling from pleasure, rutting into the bed underneath him.

Henrik was much softer and looser when Eskel finally oiled a finger placing it against Henrik’s rim next to his tongue. Henrik moaned softly as Eskel pressed his finger into him. It went in easily up to the first knuckle and Eskel kept it still there, still teasing at Henrik’s hole with his tongue, while Henrik’s body gripped his finger.

“Mmm,” Henrik seemed lost within himself and Eskel was content with that. 

It was a good place for Henrik to be as Eskel started teasing his finger in and out, gradually working it deeper until it slid past the second knuckle and Henrik gasped as his body gripped Eskel again. Once more Eskel paused there and focused on rubbing and kissing Henrik’s ass cheek until he felt Henrik ease up and loosen. Once his finger was pressed in as deeply as he could get it Eskel crooked it down towards the bed and moved it in tiny circles feeling for the right place. 

“OH! OH!” Henrik’s toes curled and his head rose off his arms.

“Right there,” Eskel whispered against the cheek of Henrik’s ass, as he continued his tiny motions against Henrik’s prostate.

“Oh sweet Melitele,” Henrik swore softly back into his arms as he raised his ass to Eskel’s skilled hand and Eskel hummed against his ass cheek again before he returned to leisurely fucking his finger in and out of Henrik. Back and forth. Tender strokes in and out. Careful circles over Henrik’s prostate.

“Please,” Henrik begged, “I need more.”

A dribble of oil more and Eskel pressed a second finger against him. Henrik shuddered out a breath but he didn’t tense even when it stretched him to work its way in. Eskel withdrew both fingers nearly all the way and let more oil run onto them. It was easier sliding them back in and Henrik moaned again. The sound of it went straight to Eskel’s cock. 

It wasn’t long before Henrik was begging again and Eskel was obliging with a third finger, stretching Henrik open as he fingered him.

“Witcher, please,” Henrik pleaded, “I want you to-”

“I know,” Eskel murmured as he kissed his way up Henrik’s spine, withdrawing his fingers, spreading his knees to settled behind Henrik’s, “I will. Shhh.” Eskel reached for the oil again and coated his aching cock. Pulling Henrik up and back towards himself by the hip to open him even more, Eskel lined himself up. Eskel draped himself over Henrik’s back and whispered reassurances in his ear as he pressed forward against his slickened entrance.

As soon as Eskel felt the warmth of Henrik’s body give in and swallow the head of his cock he stilled. Henrik was breathing hard under him and Eskel kissed his shoulder blade and waited.

After a moment Henrik spoke up breathlessly, “I’m alright, I don’t want to stop.”

Eskel still took his time. Languidly rocking further and further into Henrik until he was planted deeply, Eskel’s hips flush with Henrik’s ass. Still he lay draped over Henrik, adjusting his hips to angle his shallow thrusts to rub over Henrik’s prostate.

Henrik was moaning loudly into his arms now as Eskel caressed his side with one hand, supporting his own weight on the other. Eskel was thankful for his own stamina as he held himself back despite the glorious heat squeezing his stiff cock. Henrik’s body felt amazing around him but he wanted Henrik to cum again before he let himself go. Reaching around underneath Henrik Eskel found he was hard again and leaking profusely. It only took a few strokes before he felt Henrik’s channel spasming tightly around him as Henrik coated Eskel’s fingers with his second release of the night.

“Aah! Gods!” Henrik called out against the bed, clenching on Eskel’s cock as Eskel finally, finally, let himself spill inside Henrik.

Eskel soothed Henrik and shushed him, letting him bury his head in the pillow as Eskel kissed his shoulders before carefully pulling himself out. Henrik barely stirred when Eskel went in search of a cloth and washbasin. Eskel heated the water with a twist of his fingers and Igni signed just under the water's surface, he didn’t want to startle Henrik awake with cold water now. And when Eskel returned to the bed Henrik blissfully dozed through Eskel carefully washing him up and tucking a blanket around him.

Eskel made quicker work of washing himself and dressing. He smiled fondly at Henrik’s sleeping form as he slipped out the bedroom door and gathered his armor where he had left it by the front entrance. Staying the night would complicate things he knew. He’d given the man what he wanted and needed- a pleasurable first experience, a light in the dark, and the knowledge that there were others out there like him. 

 

It was up to Henrik to find the right man to love. Eskel wasn’t that man. He was a good man, but not that man.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will continue to update this roughly weekly to biweekly :) I'd love to hear your feedback! What are you liking? Who are you looking forward to seeing most as we enter into the years where we will be seeing regular characters more often?


	8. Almost Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Been a shit year,” Eskel said, “Anyone else back yet?”  
> “Lambert, a few of the others, me. You certainly aren’t the first one back,” Cuinn replied in his cheeky way.  
> Eskel harrumphed in return, “Is there food?”  
> “And booze,” Cuinn got right to the heart of the matter.  
> “Good.”  
>  _there are two sides to every coin, two sides to every story, two sides to every blade... we can only see but one and are often by necessity making our choices based on that... we must flip the coin, turn the blade, learn the story, over and over in our mind to to memorize both sides and do better..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special kudos to the wonderful [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion) for their magic ability to help me _chop chop_ my monstrosities of sentences and paragraphs when they have grown FAAAR too long.
> 
> More notes at the bottom

Two short years later Eskel himself trudging along back to Kaer Morhen for the winter. Guiding Fiorano along a convoluted path painstakingly chosen to avoid ever going north of the Buina River until Eskel was through the Kestral Mountain’s pass. He had been studiously avoiding Hengfors League and Craingorn for a little over a decade now and he wasn’t about to slip up and bump into his mistake now. Not that he had anyone to blame but himself, Eskel scolded himself mentally, he should have known better than to invoke the Law of Surprise so flippantly. Eskel sighed and patted Fiorano’s neck, he was young and dumb back then, but he’d be damned if he was going to drag some poor kid, a girl no less, into a witcher’s life.

Eskel was weary and bitchy. That was the only way to put it. The season had not been great. He was headed back a bit early and not because his pockets were full of gold. He was out of stock on a lot of potions, out of sorts in his head, and running low on funds. Looking forward to a winter of rest, training, restocking, and settling his brain with the companionship of his fellow witchers. This year had brought a few too many new scars for his liking. Work had been scarce on the Path all summer long and he’d been spat on and chased out more towns than he had fingers. Eskel felt he’d earned an early winter, even if not financially.

Fiorano picked his hooves over dead-fall and through piles of fallen leaves that were frosted to the ground. And Eskel sat picking through the bad days littering his brain, throwing out the minor ones and sulking over the most glaring examples as they headed on to Kaer Morhen.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

Approaching the gate Eskel was grateful to see it rising for him in welcome. Hefinally was home. He probably wasn’t even the only one to return early this year with as slim as the notice boards had been. Kicking Firoano up to a to a trot Eskel rode in and was greeted by Cuinn. Dismounting and leading Firoano to the stable’s water trough Eskel greeted him back.

“Been a shit year,” Eskel said, “Anyone else back yet?”

“Lambert, a few of the others, me. You certainly aren’t the first one back,” Cuinn replied in his cheeky way.

Eskel harrumphed in return, “Is there food?”

“And booze,” Cuinn got right to the heart of the matter.

“Good.”

 

Multiple tankards of ale and two shots of Lambert’s special home-brewed White Gull mix later and Eskel was thoroughly buzzed. Warm, smiling, and content. He was sitting flat on his ass on the flagstones in front of a large roaring fire, bare feet out of his boots, letting the heat sink into his soles as he stretched his toes.

“Fire’s nice and all, but I don’t know how you have your boots off. Still fucking cold as Hells in here,” Lambert took another swig of his home-brew and burrowed further into the blanket he’d wrapped himself in.

“Quit your bitching Lambert. You are always cold, this feels great after spending days on a horse,” Eskel sighed and drained some more of his ale, but he was still smiling. It was good to be home.

 

Within three weeks the keep was full again. Eskel had settled back into his usual dorm room, one door down from where Geralt would be and all the way at the opposite end of the hall from Lambert. Of course Vesemir and some of the much older trainers or witchers had larger private rooms in the towers, complete with their own bathing tubs and balconies but Eskel and the others were content with at least room and a bed to their name. It beat the barrack style cots they’d had as trainees and it was a lot more than they had on the Path the rest of the year. 

Eskel was grateful for it as he rested on his bed and inspected his newly acquired scars. A chort had gotten him rather good this spring and he had a large scar on his thigh to show for it now. He’d been lucky he had so many potions with him, but then he’d nearly gone toxic from those as well before he’d gotten his hands on his white honey. There was also a rather annoying bite mark on his shoulder from a bruxae, it was what had killed her in the end since he’d laced his veins with black blood, but he thought it made him look like he was perpetually returning from a night of rough sex, which he was not fond of. 

Eskel didn’t like people prying into his sex life as it was, a scar that invited jokes about it was not something he enjoyed, and Lambert had already started in. There were a few others, though none as prominent as those, small thin lines here and there on his arms and back. Pinpricks of light pink on his tan skin where a fang or claw had pierced him. He laid back sighing to himself.

Eskel was startled awake sometime later by the creak of his wooden door scraping closed. His eyes focused on Geralt walking towards his bed in the darkness. It must have been late, Eskel realized quickly because his ears weren’t picking up a lot of noises from the keep. Witchers were preternaturally light on their feet and silent when hunting but at Kaer Morhen with booze, allowed to lower their guard for once, they were a raucous bunch.

“Geralt?” Eskel’s question was garbled by his sleepy voice. He was certainly alert, but his body was slower to follow along than his mind.

“Hey, Lambert said you had a rough summer,” Geralt’s movement seemed stilted as he approached the side of Eskel’s bed. “Hate to wake you, but I have a…” Geralt sat on the edge of Eskel’s bed looking uncomfortable, causing Eskel to shift over and avoid contact, “problem. I was hoping you could help me.”

_ Oh Gods no _ , “Geralt I-”

“I ran into a pack of arachnomorphs a few days back on my way here,” Geralt interrupted. “You  _ know _ how much I hate those creepers. Giant one bit into my back, I twisted and managed to kill it, I neutralized the poison with White Honey…”

_ Oh. _ Oh. Eskel felt like an ass, and thanked the gods he couldn’t blush because he had completely misread that situation.

“…I think the fang is still embedded and I can’t reach it. I couldn’t drink a Swallow or anything with it in there,” Geralt continued.

Eskel’s body finally caught up with his brain and Geralt’s words sunk in. Shit. No wonder he looked uncomfortable. Geralt could deal with pain as much as any other witcher or maybe even more, it didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Flipping his legs off the bed Eskel, flicked Igni at the candle on his bedside stand.

“Melitele Geralt, take your armor off and lie down.”

Geralt groaned almost silently as he planted face down on Eskel’s bed once he’d managed to unbuckle his chest piece and shrug out of it. Removing his shirt by pulling it over his head, he tried not to raise his arms too high. Eskel was busy bringing a wooden bowl over to his nightstand, and digging through his pack in the corner for supplies. A thin dagger, brass needle, silk thread, dose of swallow, clean linen cloth, and tin of Eskel’s healing salve were dropped into the bowl.

“I need to get water, I’ll be right back,” Eskel assured Geralt as he slipped out of his room to fill a mug with water.He returned and arranged the contents of the bowl on his nightstand before pouring the water in it and swirling his fingers in the water to heat it with Igni. Finally he let his fingers light the rest of the lamps in his room and sat at the edge of the bed to inspect Geralt’s back. There was an obvious bulge the width of two fingers and the length of Eskel’s whole hand sitting diagonally low between Geralt’s shoulder blades. The open end where the fang had entered was scabbed over and had already knit together.

Wringing out the cloth and cleaning the area of the grime from a day on horseback Eskel spoke quietly, “You said this happened two days ago?”

“Might have been three,” Geralt admitted, “it’s past midnight, so maybe closer to four.”

“Why didn’t you find a healer?” Eskel couldn’t help the way his voice crept up a little in pitch, upset that Geralt had risked his health. “It’s already started to close over, even without Swallow.”

“I knew you’d be here,” Geralt answered as if that explained his poor decision making.

“Gods Geralt,” Eskel said exasperated. “A healer would have been closer.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Geralt mumbled into Eskel’s pillow. “Please just take it out.”

“Alright, I’m going to have to open it back up,” Eskel warned him. Geralt’s body tensed up but he didn’t make a sound as Eskel slid the dagger tip in and freed the end of the fang. Working the dagger around the fang Eskel loosened each place where the skin had attached before working it out like a giant sliver, pushing on the bottom of it through Geralt’s skin as he drew it out the top. Once he was done Eskel wrapped the dagger in wet linen and slid it in the pocket as gently as he could to clean anything left behind, before repeating the same process with a piece of linen covered in his healing salve. After a few stitches to close the open end of the woundGeralt had broken out in a sheen of sweat but remained silent, breathing solidly. 

Eskel turned Geralt on his side and pressed the dose of Swallow into his palm, “Drink.”

Tipping it back Geralt watched Eskel watch him before handing the empty vial back, “Can I stay here tonight? Please?”

Eskel couldn’t decipher what was storming behind Geralt’s eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. This was a bad idea and he knew it but Gods he missed being close to Geralt and it had been decades since they’d shared a bed.

“Yea,” Eskel sighed, turmoil already turning over in his gut. Geralt closed his eyes and breathed out what Eskel could have sworn was a sigh of relief.

It took Eskel at least ten minutes longer than was strictly necessary to clean up after Geralt’s wound care. At a certain point he had to admit to himself he was merely stalling. Geralt was still laying on his side breathing softly, bare from the waist up and wearing his leathers and boots on Eskel’s bed. It was so so tempting to take everything offered there, but Eskel swore to himself that he would only offer Geralt the comfort he seemed to be seeking which, Eskel reminded himself harshly, wasn’t sexual in nature. So he bent down at the foot of the bed and pulled off Geralt’s boots which earned him a grunt and then crawled in, still wearing his shirt and trousers. Winter had started to settle into the Blue Mountains for real now and Eskel pulled the blanket up to their chests. Geralt caught Eskel’s arm and pulled it around his waist, holding it there against himself as he sank back into Eskel. FUCK.

“This. Thank you Eskel,” was all Geralt said as he drifted off peacefully.

Eskel let himself nose into Geralt’s silvery white hair and inhale his scent as he told his body to sleep. Just sleep.

 

The morning was uneventful to Eskel’s surprise. He’d woken to his arms curled tightly around Geralt and Geralt stretching softly in them groaning. Geralt was pleasant, laughing, joking about his stiff back. If Geralt had noticed that Eskel was aroused as he was most mornings he hadn’t mentioned anything about it. 

Returning to his own room to gather items for a bath Eskel didn’t see Geralt again until breakfast. Neither mentioned anything about the incident with the arachnomorphs to Lambert or any of the others. Or about where Geralt had spent his night. That weakness was only between Geralt and him. Eskel knew Geralt could fight arachnomorphs he just hated them and if Geralt wanted to be weak with Eskel once in a while, well Eskel would take what he could get as long as it didn’t break him.

It was oddly comfortable, sitting at one of the long trestle tables with Lambert, Cuinn, Vesemir, Gweld, and several others, hearing Geralt retell bits of his summer on the Path. It hadn’t been much better than the rest of theirs. Knowing that when it really came down to it, Geralt preferred Eskel’s company to the rest of theirs comforted Eskel a strange way. Something inside Eskel had been settled by waking up wrapped around Geralt. He was smiling and he couldn’t even put his finger on why. Lambert was going on about a new idea he had for a bomb and Eskel tuned him out, returning to his porridge.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

The frost was creeping in everywhere. Even into the keep, past the wooden doors, a foot inward on the flagstones, warring with the heat from the fire places. Lambert hadn’t unwrapped himself from his blanket in days. It went with him to meals, the latrine, and then back to bed. Eskel had managed to acquire two thick woolen blankets from the room of a witcher who hadn’t been back to the keep in two winters. It wasn’t a good sign, but it didn’t exactly mean he wouldn’t be back eventually either. For now though these blankets were going to get used, Geralt and him would not freeze needlessly.

Eskel was about to pound on Geralt’s door to offer him one of said blankets when he paused, fist raised, inches from the wood. A low broken moan came from the other side of the door. Eskel dropped his hand from the door, he should leave now. He shouldn’t stay, he shouldn’t listen, this was wrong. Geralt’s breath hitched on the other side of the door.  _ WRONG. Bad decision Eskel, _ he told himself, but his feet refused to cooperate and move. Eskel closed his eyes and tried to breathe silently, as soon as he wasn’t distracted Geralt would hear him out here, this was risky and he knew it. Geralt’s husky moans and heavy breathing was intoxicating though and Eskel felt like he couldn’t help himself.

_ “Please, there Eskel, please… uhh,” _

The arousal in Geralt’s voice was unmistakable even suppressed by the door and Eskel’s eyes shot open. He stared blankly at the wood for a moment before exhaling shakily and resting his head on the door frame.

_ “…good… there… Eskel-” _

Geralt’s voice was cut off by the most obscene dirty moan Eskel had ever heard.

_ “-ohh fuck!” _

Eskel turned on his heel dropping one blanket outside Geralt’s door and headed to his own room, breathing heavily. Shutting the door behind himself with a thud he leaned back against it and slid down to the floor. Confusion whirled in his head and desire in his gut. The other blanket sat in a heap at his feet. Had Geralt really been jacking off to thoughts of him? That much was obvious, there was no other reason for Geralt to be saying his name like that. The question was  _ WHY? _

The last time Geralt had touched him that way had been decades ago and out of nothing more than pity. Right? In all the intervening years Geralt had never attempted to touch him intimately, except for a few drunken passes which Eskel had rebuffed in an effort to preserve his own pride. 

What if they’d just grown apart though and the only time Geralt felt relaxed enough to try was when he’d had a few too many? And then Eskel had shot him down. What if it hadn’t really been pity exactly? What if Aldith was right, what if Geralt was confused or scared too, like Eskel used to be? Geralt had been so content to stay in Eskel’s bed, Eskel’s arms that first night back in Kaer Morhen when Eskel had patched him up, Geralt had  _ asked _ to stay. FUCK, his head hurt.

Shoving himself up off the floor Eskel picked up his extra blanket and stumbled to his bed grumbling to himself, “Fuck me, and not in a good way.” He crammed his covers down to the end of the bed, stripped down to his braies, wrapped the woolen blanket around himself and pulled the covers back up all the way over his head, shutting out everything around him. As an afterthought Eskel poked his arm out from his cocoon and with a quick turn of his fingers put out all the lamps and candles in his room.

Eskel didn’t sleep for a long time. He turned his thoughts over in his head, tumbling them around, sorting them out and then tossing them back together when he felt they still had made no sense. Eventually his mind became exhausted at the futility of it and he dozed off unwillingly under the blankets. Hours later Eskel heard barely there footsteps padding along the hall, pulling him out from his sleep. He didn't even bother to raise his head from under the blankets, he recognized Geralt’s footfalls anywhere but he wasn’t feeling up to dealing with this yet.

The door scraped open and then closed. Geralt made hardly any noise as he shuffled around the room, but the smell of goat stew was so pervasive it even penetrated underneath Eskel’s quilt.

The bed dipped behind Eskel as Geralt sat on the edge, “I know you're awake under there, I can hear your heart rate.”

Eskel sighed in response.

“You missed dinner. Brought you stew, stringy as ever,” Geralt continued on talking to the lump of blankets that was Eskel.

“Thanks,” Eskel mumbled, but he made no effort to dislodge himself from his cocoon either.

“You cold?” Geralt pushed.

Eskel hummed a negative.  _ Gods go already Geralt _

“Well I know you’re not sick, so why are you huddled in your bed like Lambert?” Geralt was not going anywhere unfortunately. “Thanks for the extra wool blanket by the way.”

And there it was. The inescapable. It was going to come out one way or the other what he’d overheard, what Eskel never should have heard. What Eskel had wanted to hear for a quarter of a century.

“Of course, wouldn’t want you to be cold either,” Eskel mumbled out in a rush pushing his head above the covers and sitting up slightly. He reached for the stew on the bedside table. Geralt wasn’t joking when he said it was stringy. They sat in silence while Eskel ate his stew and drank his ale, Geralt drinking a tankard he’d brought along for himself. 

When the bowl was empty and the tankard gone, Geralt took them both putting them back on the table before looking right at Eskel and asking, “You gonna tell me why you’re hiding up here now? Is it because I didn’t hear you knock when you brought the blanket?”

Eskel’s stomach churned. He hadn’t had time to figure this out yet and Geralt was pushing him headlong into a discussion about it. Eskel blew out a long breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to rest against the wall, “I never even made it to knocking.”

“Alright,” Geralt’s voice was tight,“so you heard something.”

“I heard enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Eskel could still hear the tightness even as Geralt’s voice had dropped to barely a whisper.

“Sorry for what?” Eskel retorted quickly, annoyance bubbling inside with all the other emotions he wasn’t even supposed to have. Witchers were emotionless, that was the tale. Such a misconstrued lie, witchers were trained machines who didn’t bring emotions to a fight, who shoved emotions down to the bottom of their boot perhaps, but they certainly weren’t devoid of them altogether.

“That I can’t stop… how I feel about you,” Geralt ground out, “I know it’s not what you want.”

A sick giggle started somewhere low in Eskel’s chest, burbling out of his lips as he looked Geralt in the eye, “It’s all I have  _ ever _ wanted Geralt.” 

Eskel tried to read the expression on Geralt’s face, stoic as ever, but where he usually had no trouble figuring out the tiny microscopic twinges that told what Geralt was really thinking, this time he was unable to decipher anything. Geralt just stared at him. It wasn’t a cold look but it wasn’t a welcoming look either, it was flat and gave nothing away.

“Yea?” There was a definite question to the word when Geralt spat it out, “You walked away from me, Eskel. You left me alone the next morning. You told me no each time I tried. So, I stopped trying.” Geralt crossed his arms still staring at Eskel and Eskel could hear the slight indignation in his words the longer he talked. He’d never meant to hurt Geralt, far from it.

“I-” Eskel paused to think carefully, “-I’m sorry. I thought you were only doing it because you pitied me.” Swallowing hard Eskel held out his hand toward Geralt. “I didn’t want pity, I wanted you.”

“You’re always here for me when I need you, and when you said I could stay after you stitched my back,” Geralt took his hand and squeezed it, “You have no idea how much I missed that.”

Eskel’s whole body felt wrecked, tired and wrung out just from talking, “Maybe I do.”

“Yea?” Geralt questioned again as he stood up and let Eskel’s hand fall. Eskel’s face fell with it. “I remember when it was cold and we were young out on a hunt. We stayed warm by sharing a bedroll. Want to see if that still works? ‘Cause you have a lot of blankets and the keep’s cold.”

Eskel couldn’t help the grin that spread wide on his face. “Gods yes,” he said as he slid down in the bed and lifted the covers for Geralt to join him. Making quick work of his boots, trousers, and shirt Geralt joined him under the blankets in only his braies, pressing his bare chest right up against Eskel’s and rolling Eskel onto his back. Eskel studied the golden cat eyes staring down at him, and realized that for all he knew about his best friend, he still didn’t fully understand this.

“What about all those farmer’s daughters, and brothel girls? I thought you liked women?” Eskel kept his tone soft and inquisitive, no accusation to it all, just honest curiosity.

And Geralt laughed in return, “I do. Can’t I like both?” There was a sparkle in Geralt’s eye that Eskel wanted to bottle and keep.

“No judgment here,” Eskel answered.

“I spent a long time figuring out that I liked people, not just men or women, but people I connect with, find interesting,” Geralt explained his legs sliding to rest on either side of Eskel’s hips, resting his weight on his elbow. “I enjoy sex with both, but what I really  _ want _ is to be with someone I have a connection with.”

“You’ve been with other men then?” Eskel tried extremely hard to keep the twinge of jealousy out of his voice.

“A few brothel boys,” Geralt’s face softened, “But no one like you, there was never a connection. It’s different with you, I trust you.”

Eskel didn’t have anything to say to that, instead he touched Geralt’s face, running his hand down Geralt’s jaw.

“By the time I figured that out, you weren’t there anymore,” Geralt let out a loose breath, eyes falling half closed at Eskel’s touch.

“I’ve always been here,” Eskel whispered raising up to kiss Geralt’s lips and pulled him down, hand wrapped behind Geralt’s neck.

“Yea?” Geralt asked back against Eskel’s mouth.

They kissed lazily for a long time, wrapped in the blankets. Eskel basking in the smell of Geralt. Inhaling deeply the notes of leather and blade oil, the saltiness of their combined arousal, and somewhere in the background the ever pervasive smell of stringy goat stew left on the bedside table. Eskel would never be able to get enough of this and he knew it. Geralt’s skin was hot on his own, his white stubble scraping Eskel’s jaw perfectly, his teeth tugging at Eskel’s earlobe. At some point their panting became harsher and the noise that escaped Eskel must have been a bit louder because Geralt clamped a hand over Eskel’s mouth.

“Shhh, Gods forbid Vesemir hear us now,” Geralt whispered, eyes still twinkling as he looked down at Eskel and Eskel groaned behind his hand.

Eskel’s braies were being pushed down then and he bit against Geralt’s palm to hold in the gasp when Geralt’s hot cock bump into his own. Geralt’s skin was like fire, so much warmer than a regular human lover and Eskel was drowning in the heat. Geralt pushed their hips together tightly as he rutted against Eskel, and Eskel couldn’t decide what was more glorious, the friction of his own cock against Geralt or the feeling of Geralt’s slick with precum sliding along the junction of his hip. Humid breathes of air from Geralt were searing out along the front of Eskel’s neck and he could think of nothing better than this until Geralt fumbled in the bedside cabinet for oil and brought a slick hand around both their cocks with a quiet hiss.

Eskel started thrusting for real then. Every bump and ridge of his cock jolting him as it slid past Geralt’s fingers, the tip of his head nudging up under Geralt’s own. Geralt held still, holding his cock against Eskel’s, letting Eskel fuck up against him wantonly. Eskel needed so much, so bad. He was close, so close, when Geralt started swiping his finger over Eskel’s leaking head, playing in the precum there, tipping Eskel over hard into his climax. Geralt slotted his mouth over Eskel’s open lips, sealing in the sounds as he milked Eskel through it until he was too sensitive, shaking all over with every pull. Reaching down to stoke Geralt to finish, still kissing, Eskel hummed into his mouth as he felt Geralt spill warmly on his abdomen.

 

It was Eskel who got up for a washcloth, heated the water in the bowl and wiped off his stomach, rinsing it and then returning to clean Geralt. And Geralt let him, splaying his legs open a little more than necessary, one arm behind his head on the pillow as Eskel washed the other hand first, then down his chest, and finally his soft cock, all while Geralt laid there with his eyes closed placidly.

When Eskel came back to the bed and curled up against Geralt, he was pulled in tight and the covers pulled up over their heads. Fingers played in Eskel’s hair and Geralt lips found his forehead.

“Can we go back to how things were? Before?” The question from Geralt was so quiet only Eskel’s ears would ever have picked it up.

“Just when we are here at the keep or see each other on the Path you mean?” Eskel wanted Geralt all to himself but he knew deep down that Geralt was too lonely, too touch starved, to keep to himself all summer without Eskel around.

“Mhm,” Geralt had started to run his fingers up and down Eskel’s spine soothingly. That and the post orgasm bliss may have had some effect on Eskel’s answer.

“Alright.”

 

The next morning’s breakfast of boiled eggs and cured sausage went down easy, chased down by hot cider. Afterwards Geralt and Eskel headed out to the yard to spar, despite the bitter cold and the howling wind. Practice alone only makes your mistakes permanent, so says Vesemir, and Eskel was always willing to keep Geralt on his toes. Eskel had always been the best at Signs though he wasn’t one to brag about it, and while he was an accomplished swordsman by now as well, the magic came to his fingers naturally in a way it just didn’t for Geralt. 

Sparring with Eskel afforded Geralt an opportunity to hone himself against a different kind of beast than the average witcher. Eskel had no problem unleashing a stream of fire in his direction and keeping it going as Geralt dodged and rolled around it trying to get close enough to Eskel to land a blow. Nor did he have any problem quickly covering himself in the shiny thin gold layer of his Quen as Geralt was mid-strike, only to have the shield explode and knock Geralt on his ass as soon as the blow landed. Geralt had stamina though, and eventually he could wear Eskel down to using his sword and then it was closer to even odds. Sometimes Eskel would lose and sometimes not. Either way they would both stay in top form, Eskel’s sword skills would improve with pointers from Geralt, and Geralt would learn to evade and dance around the magic. Patience, Geralt would learn patience. 

As the sweat cooled in the wind and began to freeze to their skin they headed inside. Finding a couple of tankards and filling them with ale in the kitchens before gathering supplies and heading the bathing chambers. Baths happened exceedingly quickly in the winter chill. Even with the luxury of Igni to heat your own water as many times as you wanted, you could never heat the air around yourself. Eskel redressed in his leathers and a clean soft pair of cotton braies along with a new stiff linen shirt, but didn’t bother with his chest armor yet, draping it with his old shirt and braies over his arm. Once clean Eskel took the stairs up to his room two at a time.

Only to find that Geralt had somehow beaten him there. Sitting crossed-legged on Eskel’s bed, facing the pillow on which he’d precariously propped Eskel’s small shaving mirror was Geralt, face half lathered -with what Eskel’s nose immediately informed him was  _ his _ shaving soap- shaving with Eskel’s straight razor. Eskel stepped inside slowly, closing and locking the door behind him. Gut clenching at the sight and smell of Geralt with  _ his _ smell and  _ his _ blade all over his face. Eskel reached down and attempted to arrange his swelling cock more comfortably in his leathers. Fuck that shouldn’t be so Gods Damned provocative. Eskel strode over and laid his armor on the chest at the foot of his bed. He couldn’t stop himself from unlacing his leathers and removing them along with his braies. Eskel didn’t want to stop himself. He could have this again. He  _ would _ have this again. For as long as Geralt have him.

Eskel was careful when he slid in behind Geralt on the bed, not wanting to jar the straight razor against Geralt’s skin. Geralt was dressed only in a pair of old yellowing braies, clean but in dire need of replacement. Eskel spied a hole in one of the legs. Sitting on his knees with his heels under his ass Eskel scooted as close up to Geralt as possible, he ran his thumb over the scar that had formed where he had removed the arachnomorph’s fang at the beginning of winter. His lips replaced his thumb and he kissed it, chastely at first before opening his lips to suck at it swirl his tongue over the scar tissue as his hands came to rest on Geralt’s hips. 

 

They continued like that -Geralt shaving and Eskel using his tongue, lips, and teeth to worship and worry at every scar he could find on Geralt’s back- until Geralt had finished removing every hair from his face. When Geralt was wiping away the last of the soap with a hot cloth, Eskel rose up on his knees behind Geralt, bending his head back. With a hand possessively splayed around the front of his neck but no pressure behind it Eskel kissed him deeply. Putting all the passion and heat he felt at seeing Geralt comfortable in his space, using his things, smelling like him, into the kiss Eskel explored Geralt’s mouth in a way he never had before.

When he finally broke away Eskel moved his mouth to Geralt’s ear, his teeth grazing at the sensitive skin behind it, “Mmm you smell like me.” Eskel’s hand worked forward from Geralt’s hip and was now insistently worming its way into Geralt’s worn out braies. “Like blade oil and leather and my soap.” The mirror and cloth were hastily set aside as Geralt used one hand to loosen his braies and shove them down.

“I thought you might not want my seven day shadow scratching you up,” Geralt managed to get out as he covered Eskel’s hand in his own and they stroked over Geralt’s stiffening length together.

“Mmm I don’t mind a little scratching, but I love that you did this for me,” Eskel’s teeth scraped over the hinge of Geralt’s jaw and Eskel could feel Geralt shudder against him. Eskel brought his other hand down from Geralt’s neck to cup his balls, rolling them as he stroked his fingertips lightly up the underside of Geralt’s cock. Geralt's hips rocked at the touch, causing Eskel’s cock to nudge against his ass and Eskel fought the urge to rut up into the warm cleft that was holding the head of his cock so snugly. It made Eskel shudder to think how much had changed since Geralt and him had last been together like this with any frequency. What would Geralt think now, Eskel wondered, if he asked him about touching him there, tasting him there, taking him there. Aching at the thoughts in his head Eskel let the head of his cock stay crowded up against Geralt’s cleft as he kept teasing Geralt’s straining cock. Sweet Melitele he wanted it, even if he had told Geralt decades ago he never would.

“Fuck Eskel,” Geralt’s voice came out low and needy, “Stop teasing me and DO something.”

Eskel leaned back on his heels making Geralt outright whine at the loss of contact when Eskel removed his hands. 

“I didn’t mean stop!” Geralt protested, shoulders sagging.

“Turn around and lay down for me,” Eskel instructed a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Geralt was quick to comply, turning around, threading his legs around Eskel’s knees, and scooting down until his ass was nearly touching them as well before laying his head back on Eskel’s pillow.

“Now DO something,” Geralt ordered.

A full grin broke out on Eskel’s face as he leaned down to kiss Geralt a little roughly, “Demanding. What should I do for you?” Eskel kissed Geralt’s neck where he had held it earlier, nipping at his Adam’s apple. “Hmm?” Trailing his lips down to one of Geralt’s flat pale nipples he licked over it, but it didn’t cause Geralt to arch his back in pleasure so he didn’t linger. Kissing and nipping at a scar low on Geralt’s abdomen Eskel reached over blindly and felt for the bedside table, finding the drawer, and then a vial of oil in it. Setting it on the bed he saw it was the green one and reached back in and pulled out the other vial, plain amber, too. It joined the other in the bed by Geralt’s hip.

“What, one’s not enough?” Geralt huffed out, eyebrow cocked at Eskel’s head where it was moving lower and lower down his body.

“You’ll see,” Eskel looked up at Geralt through his dark brown lashes, lips dark red from sucking at Geralt’s skin. Geralt’s cock bobbed at the sight. “Now back to the question, should I do this?” Eskel flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe from the top of Geralt’s sac all the way to the head of his cock, letting his tongue linger there for a moment as he listened to Geralt’s ragged breathing before kissing it. “Or should I touch you?” Eskel ran his hands up the inside of Geralt’s thighs, and Geralt let them fall open under his caress. Thumbs tracing tiny circles over the prominent tendons on the inside of Geralt’s groin, almost brushing against his sac there but not quite.

Geralt’s breathing was loose and deep now, “Yea. You should.” 

“I should?” Eskel cocked his head to the side, “Which one?”

“All of it. Anything you want. I trust you,” Geralt was relaxed and Eskel could feel the lack of tension under his hands even as he let his thumbs wander farther. Back behind Geralt’s balls to press into the tender area of flesh there. An easy moan rumbled up from Geralt’s chest at the intimate touch.

“Even if I want…” Eskel struggled with finding the right words, “More? Something I said I’d never do to you?”

Geralt made sure to catch Eskel’s eyes, “Anything you want Eskel. I trust you. I’ve never had anything your size before but I like it and you’d stop if I asked you to.”

All remaining doubt dropped out of Eskel’s brain and into his gut where it mingled with his arousal at the idea of making this feel good for Geralt and warred with his jealousy over not having been the first to show him this pleasure. _ After me you won’t remember any of those other men, _ Eskel vowed silently. 

Picking up the vial of plain oil Eskel poured some liberally into his hand. He stroked his own cock, squeezing hard at his base on each downstroke to temper his desire to cum immediately at the thought of pressing into Geralt’s willing body. Then he uncorked the green vial with his teeth, spitting the cork off to the side. Still stroking himself teasingly with a light hand, he dribbled a thin line of green oil up Geralt’s swollen shaft, stopping just shy of the head. Turning around under the head, Eskel dribbled another line back down to the base and then set the diamond shaped vial upright on the nightstand next to the shaving supplies so it wouldn’t spill.

Geralt bucked his hips up and moaned in earnest when Eskel’s mouth covered the head of his cock. The hand not working his own cock lightly, came up to grip Geralt’s, spreading the green oil around his shaft.

“Is… Is that mint?” Geralt’s voice was a little too loud, “OH F- fuuuck,” he groaned out as his hips thrust up. 

Eskel kept his mouth steady around the head of Geralt’s cock, sucking at it, flicking his tongue against the slit. It felt amazing in his mouth, hotter than other men, more arousing because all he could smell was himself and Geralt. It wasn’t long before Eskel had stopped teasing his own cock in favor of tugging his balls rather roughly to slow himself down.

“Gods Eskel! -Shit tingles,” Geralt’s hips were still grinding up into his hand as he stroked up and down his length with the minty oil, “It feels- amazing,” his words were choppy, broken up by his labored breathing.

While Geralt was enjoying the tingle of the mint oil on his cock Eskel lifted Geralt’s balls with the hand he’d been stroking himself with, still generously coated in plain oil. Sliding his hand over Geralt’s tender flesh into his cleft, over his hole and back again, Eskel spread the oil around. Geralt didn’t jump at the touch, only grunted and swore quietly to any God that would listen. Eskel heard Geralt’s heart rate climbing higher. Everything was slick with oil when Eskel started circling around Geralt’s entrance with the pads of his fingers. Geralt wove his fingers into Eskel’s shaggy hair, tensing and relaxing them with each pass of Eskel’s fingers over his furl. Eskel could see Geralt’s white teeth biting into his lip as he tried to stay quiet when the tip of Eskel’s finger breached him and tugged gently at his rim. Eskel hummed around the head of Geralt’s cock still in his mouth, slowly stroking up its throbbing length with his minty hand. Geralt ground his ass back against Eskel’s finger and it slid easily in deep.

“Shit. Shit. Oh Eskel, Oh Gods yes,” Geralt was babbling as his ass squeezed Eskel’s finger like a vice. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

The only thought in Eskel’s head was making Geralt forget about every other man who had ever touched him like this though. So Geralt coming now, wasn’t a bad idea as far as Eskel was concerned. Finger sunk deep in Geralt’s heat Eskel wiggled it until he felt Geralt’s whole body tense under him in pleasure as he brushed over Geralt’s prostate. Eskel concentrated on keeping his rhythm. Slow strokes on Geralt’s cock, suckling the head in his mouth, and gentle brushes of his fingertip over that spot. Again. And again. And again.

The wet slit of Geralt’s cock leaked profusely in Eskel’s mouth and he lapped it up with his tongue, laving over it repeatedly to take it all.

“Es-” Geralt’s pleasured cry faltered as he shot hot and thick inside Eskel’s mouth and Eskel was lost in the way Geralt’s ass pulsed around his finger in time with pulses of cum in his mouth. Stilling his finger inside Geralt, Eskel swallowed it all down pulling his mouth off of Geralt with a parting lick. “-Eskel. Fuck. Come here.” Geralt’s voice was the most fucked out Eskel had ever heard it and he  _ loved _ it.

Eskel allowed himself to be pulled up so his head rested on Geralt’s shoulder, half lying on Geralt, one leg over his thigh. But he kept his finger buried inside Geralt. Tipping his head up he accepted a kiss from his lover, long and languid.

“I’m not done with you,” Eskel stated simply when the kiss broke, wiggling his finger for emphasis.

“Uhgn. I’m not twenty anymore,” Geralt objected halfheartedly.

“You’re a witcher, you have lots of stamina, and half a century is hardly old,” Eskel countered.

They laid there resting, Eskel gently brushing his fingertip over Geralt’s prostate once in a while, slowly fucking his finger in and out of Geralt. True to form Geralt’s cock started to take notice after a while, thickening again as his ass took Eskel’s finger over and over. As Geralt’s breathing and heart rate picked up Eskel sat up again moving back between Geralt’s legs. Finding the discarded plain oil in the bed he opened it and added more to his fingers, pouring some on his cock again. Geralt’s ass spasmed weakly against the intrusion of a second finger, but soon his sweet heat was swallowing Eskel’s two fingers whole.

“So good,” Geralt squeezed Eskel’s fingers intentionally, rolling his hips.

“Mhm,” Eskel agreed placing his lips against the inside of Geralt’s thigh. Sucking at the tender skin there Eskel worked at it with his mouth, marking Geralt’s inner thigh with plum colored love bites all the way from knee to groin. The hissing intake of air that Geralt made at each new mark ran through Eskel’s chest and settled low in his belly, curling there like an animal warming itself before a fire. Somewhere near the junction of Geralt’s thigh and groin Eskel pressed a third finger into Geralt’s hot entrance pushing a sharp breath out of him.

“Hoooohh,” Geralt exhaled as his body hugged Eskel’s fingers. “Gods Eskel.”

Working his fingers a tiny bit back and forth inside Geralt before withdrawing them little by little as he spread them open to stretch Geralt’s entrance Eskel leaned back to admire his work. The line of bruises was perfect, straight, and evenly spaced; it would easily be covered by Geralt’s braies. Though it would only last a day or two, it was only there for Geralt and him anyway. Eskel slid his fingers home again. Geralt whined as Eskel brushed over his prostate briefly before calmly stretching him open as he withdrew them again.

“Oh fuck you’re thick,” Geralt rumbled in Eskel’s ear as Eskel leaned over him pressing the head of his cock against Geralt’s slick bud. Gripping his cock in his hand he held the head against the feverishness tension of Geralt’s entrance. Eskel knew it was alright though, everything was slick and soft- tight but softening against his insistence. Geralt wasn’t in pain, he was drawing Eskel’s hips against himself, trying to take Eskel inside his body. With patience and pressure Eskel felt Geralt’s furl relax, taking him in, an incredible inferno engulfing his cock.

“Oh Gods. So warm Geralt,” Eskel whispered barely audible. Pausing to let Geralt adjust wasn’t on the table because Geralt was still pulling at Eskel’s hips urging him deeper. 

They grunted together. Low primal sounds filling the otherwise quiet room as Eskel rocked his hips and Geralt’s fingers gripped into them turning the skin white as he clawed at Eskel begging him deeper. Finally buried in Geralt’s forever warm body Eskel ran his fingers through Geralt’s hair tugging his head back and staring deeply into his golden cat eyes as Eskel withdrew to thrust back in punching the air out of Geralt’s chest.

And neither one could look away as Eskel thrust into Geralt like a man lost. Because he was, Eskel could have this now, and next winter, and maybe the winter after, but Geralt wasn’t truly his no matter how badly he wanted Geralt to be. Geralt would always wander. 

Eskel held himself back. Waiting until Geralt spilled for the second time, all over his own stomach and up his chest, before Eskel let himself go. And when Eskel emptied himself buried deep inside Geralt for the first time he thought it was almost perfect as Geralt pulled him down for a rough needy kiss. Almost everything he wanted.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> headcannon note: Geralt runs hotter than average, Eskel may have never noticed that when he was younger because he wasn't making out with anyone else


	9. This Summer, Next Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been so incredibly easy to fall back into old habits with Geralt. To crawl back into his arms as if the intervening decades hadn’t rusted by. Eskel may have been the one slipping inside of Geralt in the dark quiet of the night but Geralt was the one steering this ship. Eskel was just blithely along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eskel, Eskel, do you finally have the man of your dreams?
> 
> As always beta read by the lovely [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion). You can all blow them kisses for this wonderful piece of fluff. I was encouraged to allow Eskel to have some metaphorical cotton candy.

It had been so incredibly _easy_ to fall back into old habits with Geralt. To crawl back into his arms as if the intervening decades hadn’t rusted by. Eskel may have been the one slipping inside of Geralt in the dark quiet of the night but Geralt was the one steering this ship. Eskel was just blithely along for the ride. The same as it had been all those years ago when Geralt had asked him if he wasn’t ‘entirely opposed to the idea’.

Geralt came to Eskel’s room as he pleased and Eskel took him in anytime he showed up, never turning him away. Always endeavoring to worship Geralt’s body, hard and strong, pleasuring him in every way Eskel knew how. And during their days, their camaraderie showed, sparring and working together within the keep as any other two witchers might, to stay in top form. It satisfied something deep inside Eskel to care for Geralt in this way. In return Eskel could only hope that Geralt would not steer him onto the rocks.

 

Harsh winter mellowed into meek snows, and eventually melted into true spring. Fiorano pranced in the stable, ready to be free of his wood and stone house. Knowing it was time to set out on The Path again and wanting to were different things entirely. Eskel’s wisdom warred with his passion. Yet Geralt decided it for him, seemingly without a second guess. After riding Eskel to his second release in as many hours one morning, back arched in pleasure, and Eskel’s hands cradled around his hips Geralt bent and kissed his lips reminding him it was time for breakfast. Then in between bites of peas porridge with eggs Geralt had calmly mentioned that he planned to set out by noon.

It was a shock and yet… Eskel had known it would happen and perhaps it was best not to have more forewarning. No time to dwell on what had to happen. They were witchers and that would never change. Eskel packed his saddlebags and bedroll. Short sharp movements shoving each item into its place. Geralt found him in the stable and forced him to turn for a long kiss that no one would see. There was tenderness there and it bled some of the anger out of Eskel’s actions. Eskel was greedy pulling him back to kiss a second time, sloppy and desperate. While Geralt didn’t make any empty promises of remaining faithful, he did promise to be back in the fall, to come back to Eskel’s bed. And perhaps that could be enough for Eskel.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

The massive cliffs of Kaer Trolde harbor thrust up into the watery yellow dawn sky as the ship Eskel had bought passage on sailed into port. Sodden wood creaked against the well oiled teak wood of the ship’s hull as it scraped up against the dock, ropes straining to slow its progress and reign it in. Eskel could smell the damp earth and gull shit, finally, after a week of nothing but saltwater, salt pork and limes. Boots sinking into the wet soil as he left the docks Eskel tried hard not to draw parallels to the last time he’d come here.

 _This is different,_ he told himself. _I am not running from Geralt, I’ll be seeing him next winter, and I’ll still be allowed to touch him._ Yet it still made Eskel uneasy. So much could change. It had changed in the past and it all felt fragile still. He pushed it out of his mind and went to check the message board while he waited for the crew to unload the cargo, including Fiorano. He was here because it had been a shit year on the Continent last year and he was determined to do better for himself this year.

While the message board wasn’t loaded with work it was at least decent. Notes offering gwent lessons, advertising the local fighting ring, a notice from the druids warning dire changes in the patterns of the weather, and family looking for a missing son. Interesting. Eskel took the notice for the missing boy and made note of the fighting ring. He’d check into the child and if nothing else he could make a quick turn of coin with his fists.

 

In the end, Eskel ended up besting several rounds of fighters in front of the Craite House Tavern, walking away with a small purseful of gold and nary a bruise. The men he’d gone up against sat battered and grumbling, propped up on each other and the building. Grinning to himself Eskel went into the tavern and purchased himself a room, a meal, a hot bath, and a spot in the stable for his horse. Some men would never learn. Call him kitty eyes all you want, the speed and strength that came from the same Trials as those freakish eyes would whip your ass just the same. The names and taunts that once bothered him now rolled right over him. Eskel saw no reason not to use those mutations to make some money off of less perceptive fools once in a while.

The roasted quail came surrounded by pieces of squash fried in butter, and with a mug of thick black Hail Hill lager Eskel nearly danced to his room. He stripped down and carrying his treasures carefully, dipped into the tub. After weeks of eating trail rations and then salt port with a squeeze of lime on the ship he was in the heavens above. The heat from the near scalding water drove away the stubborn ache of the chilly sea winds. The quail was the exact right amount of greasy to appease his desire for fresh meat, and squash was seasoned but not _salty_ , thank the Gods. Unaware of the appetite his fists had worked up Eskel ate the entire bird before even knew what he’d done. He was only mildly sad to realize it gone, because it had been so fresh and good. He wanted more, but he didn’t need it. He drained what was left of his lager, pleased with the way it slid down his throat. Reaching over he set the plate and tankard on the floor before submerging his head under the water and working the hot water into his scalp.

Once he’d worked himself clean, scrubbed his skin until it felt sensitive, Eskel toweled off and lay naked on the bed. More relaxed than he’d been in nearly three weeks he let his mind drift. Being in a bed again reminded him of the winter in Kaer Morhen, of Geralt specifically. He’d been on his bedroll in the dirt or a cramped cot in the shared hold of the ship since he’d left the keep. No privacy, no comfort, none of the ease he felt in Geralt’s arms. Eskel missed it terribly already. Missed the heat of Geralt’s body next to him, the smell of blade oil that never seemed to leave Geralt’s hands, and the deep peaceful sleep he’d find with his body sprawled half over Geralt, leg nestled between Geralt’s knees.

Sighing roughly Eskel stood up got into the bed face down pulling the bed’s lone pillow to his side. Throwing an arm and a leg over the pillow he hauled the covers up over himself and attempted to get comfortable. The soft pillow was a poor substitute for Geralt’s firm back but Eskel dozed off quickly anyway.

 

Sounds from the kitchen drifted into Eskel’s rented room. He could hear people milling about in the common room, buying a bite to eat before starting the day. He rolled over uninterested in starting his own day just yet. The coarse blanket felt rough against the bare skin of his half risen cock. Pushing the blanket down past his hips to the middle of his thighs granted relief. Two fingers drifted over his shaft where it lay to the side, in the crook of his hip, to brush away the irritation. A low hum reverberated in Eskel’s throat and his cock twitched and grew with the stimulation.

Taking advantage of the room, the privacy, and the bed, Eskel continued to tease himself. Using only the pads of those two fingers he drew lazy slow lines up and down his cock, avoiding the head, feeling it thrum with blood and grow beneath his fingers. Relaxing more he let his legs fall open wide and caressed the inside of his thigh with his other hand, running his fingers through the sparse hair there. Eskel let his mind run wild as his fingers toyed with his cock, traveling up to finally brush over the head briefly. Imagining Geralt between his legs, his tongue tracing the lines on Eskel’s cock instead of Eskel’s fingers. Unshy about teasing his tongue and fingers around Eskel’s hole, his hot mouth sealing over it. Geralt’s tongue probing against his tight pucker, trying to loosen Eskel up. Eskel shuddered and his entranced clenched hard at the thought of what it would feel like. Taking his cock loosely in his fist he stroked it as he continued to fantasize about what he wished Geralt would do, what he wanted so badly to ask Geralt for. If only Geralt would touch him there again, Eskel was sure he’d like it now.

Eskel imagined Geralt’s tongue working into him, then retreating, dipping in and out. A warm calloused finger replacing it, slick with oil. Teasing him, as Geralt’s mouth worked the skin behind his sac, barely entering him as Geralt’s thumb swept lightly over his skin.

Sucking his middle finger into his mouth, Eskel’s loose fist slid down over his balls to fondle his sac. Tugging them away from his body, bringing himself back from the edge his mind was taking him to. Then he cradled them up against himself, holding them up out of the way as he reached down with his wet finger and circled his tender bud. A sharp gasp escaped as he pressed his finger into himself and past the first short lived resistance before his furl swallowed it up to the second knuckle. His cock leaked precum against his belly as his finger became Geralt’s in Eskel’s mind, steadily fucking in and out of him.

Eskel imagined Geralt looking up at him with passion and wonder as he worked his finger even deeper, playing over that bundle of nerves inside him. Eskel wanted Geralt to see how it made him feel, wanted to fall apart in Geralt hands and be caught. Eskel pushed his own finger as deep as he could, pulling it back and stretching his rim around another. Wondering all the while what Geralt’s fingers would feel like, how they would be different. Would they be thinner? Longer? Where would he have callouses that Eskel didn’t? Fuck it felt good to touch himself like this, but he wished it was Geralt, to not be in control of it. Geralt hadn’t gone near Eskel here, probably out of fear of hurting him like he had accidentally when they were younger, but Eskel wanted it. Craved it even sometimes.

Gods, Eskel could feel that edge building up again deep in his gut. Pure bliss. Waiting to take him over and sweep him away. The icy heat washing down his thighs as his heart ticked up a pace. Fingers sunk inside himself barely moving, he jacked his cock deliberately slow and light, dragging it out as long as he could. Legs closed around his own hand in desperation, he thrust his hips slightly in time with his strokes. Eskel crested that wave of pleasure, stomach clenching, back arched in ecstasy, sweat slick chest rising off the bed to greet the day. Mouth open and breathless, his whole body tensed with the sensations coursing through it as he spilled on himself.

Breathing harshly, Eskel was slow to come down from his high. The tenderness when he slid his fingers out from himself told Eskel he would regret doing that without oil later when he was riding Fiorano. He would have chided himself if he didn’t feel so damn satisfied at the moment. As it was, he washed up taking his time, before layering himself up in his armor and heading out to the common room to buy his own bite to eat for the morning. Eskel even bought a tart apple for Fiorano too. He was feeling quite generous today.

 

The boy’s name had been Camden. This wasn’t Camden anymore, Eskel reflected to himself as he picked his way through the pile of remains strewn about in the trees south of Kaer Trolde. Tossed about here and there, was what was left of the boy. It had been brutal, and thankfully fast. Driven by pure instinct and hunger, ripping through flesh without a thought. Some parts had been consumed but not enough to really sate the beast.

The woods were permeated by the smell of wolf when Eskel drew a deep breath in through his nose. That wasn’t all that surprising though, as he could hear them howling not too far off in the distance. The smell of pine was ever present, and damp moldy earth. Nothing stood out to Eskel as strange among the cacophony of scents until he moved towards what had been Camden’s thistle brooch. What had once held Camden’s cloak closed, was now snagged on the low branches of a tree. A tuft of rust colored fur attached to a patch of bloody skin clung to the pin and reeked of hemlock and … urine? Well that was definitely different.

Eskel followed the stench through the pines, cleaning the brooch off and stowing in his potions pouch. The trail weaved in and around the trees erratically winding down to a small merchant camp halfway between Kaer Trolde and the Crossroads. Unsurprising as this was where Camden had spent his last night with his family, camped to sleep off the exhaustion from a long trip selling to the druids. On the outskirts where the stench was the strongest was a tannery, with it’s foul smelling pits and wood lined trenches leading the the pond nearby. Working the racks scraping hides was a burly man with wavy chestnut hair barely brushing his shoulders under his leather cap. The smell of wolf was woven everywhere here too. Eskel though it might be the hides but it smelled… fresher than that. The tanner seemed nervous having a witcher enter the camp, again not entirely odd. Plenty of people relied on Eskel’s skills for help but terrified of him anyway. Deciding to pass the tannery by for now and see what else he could find out Eskel moved further into the camp, where he found a merchant.

Purchasing a few small items to get the conversation flowing Eskel teased information out of the merchant. The boy’s family had stopped late in the evening, but no scuffle was heard in the night; the camp had few permanent inhabitants, Rowan the tanner being amongst the longest residents having been there a few years more than the merchant, Sven, even. The other residents consisted of a handful of guards, and an old lady with a rather vicious looking dog who said she was the caretaker for a nearby cave. Talking to the guards proved fruitless, the two who’d been on watch had seen nothing, heard nothing, and presumably- knew nothing.

 

Rowan was jumpy when Eskel approached the tannery again. His hands twitched almost imperceptibly. Breath picking up a fraction too fast as Eskel neared. Looking in his eyes they were dilated a little too much in the bright daylight.

“Name’s Eskel,” introducing himself and offering a hand. Eskel refrained from being insulted when it wasn’t taken. “Wondered if you knew the boy Camden that disappeared here?”

“Dinnae know nothin’ witcher,” Rowan replied turning right back to his work. “He was passin’ through is what I heard.”

“Mhm, that’s what the rest of the camp said, thought you might now more being since you’ve been here longer,” Eskel shrugged, hoping his words invited the man in.

“Dinnae know what the rest of the camp told ye. I’m just ‘ere to be left alone. My work smells and innae fit to be inside the Kaer’s walls. Tha’s all.”

Rowan’s statement made it clear he had no more to say but Eskel pressed on anyway, “This doesn’t spark a memory?” He asked turning Camden’s brooch over in his fingers, burnished steel glinted in the sun.

Rowan’s nostrils flared and his eyes widened, glistening. Eskel could swear he looked like he might cry.

“No. I’m sorry, I’ve nothin’ ta give ya,” Rowan said.

 

Something was off about that tanner, but Eskel couldn’t place it. The pits definitely reeked of urine, and there was hemlock there being used as well. The scent trail tracked there and Rowan reacted to the brooch in a way that led Eskel to believe he did know it. Camden hadn’t been killed by a man though. Perhaps Rowan was cursed. Yet Rowan had been in the camp so long, if he was cursed he hid it well. Eskel went back around the camp this time asking about Rowan rather than Camden. Again Sven said Rowan had long been a fixture, never causing a problem, always providing good wares at a fair price. One guard said Rowan was an odd duck, preferring to hunt at dusk and into the night, but harmless. Another said he was trouble and had been forced out of Dorve for killing a farmers sheep for the skins before coming here. The others said they didn’t really know the man.

 

Eskel was sitting on a stump outside of the camp eating hardtack and pondering the pieces of his puzzle when he was approached by the old woman, her dog growling.

“Shh, knock it off Skitter!” The woman barked at the hulk of a dog. Curling his tail under himself Skitter whined and sat down. “Master witcher, what makes a beast act beastly?”

Eskel stared at her thoughtfully, chewing his food, “Depends on the beast.”

“Yes it does, but for every beast something drives it true?” She prodded Eskel.

“I suppose so,” Eskel would allow that much, all animals had a drive even monsters.

“I would suggest you look at what makes a beast go mad, and what motivates a man to turn another into a beast, if you truly want to solve this tragedy,” and with that she walked away, Skitter trailing behind her tail between his legs.

 

What in seven hells? That was… weird. Always with the strange old ladies and riddles couldn’t anyone ever come right out and say what they thought?

 

Eskel went back to his original theory that Rowan was cursed. He couldn’t be a striga because he wasn’t female. That left a berserker, werewolf, each-uisge, or kelpie; Both each-uisges and kelpies were renowned for drowning their victims not rending them into pieces. So berserker or werewolf, neither of which was common. Werewolves could be affected by wolfsbane and he had read that berserkers could be induced to change by the taste of human blood but he’d never seen one. He’d never met a witcher who’d seen one even, he was taking Brother Adelbert’s Bestiary’s word on that.

 

Revisiting Rowan’s tannery Eskel tuned his nose past the acrid scents of Rowan’s work, digging deeper, past the smell of wolf even, until it struck his nose. The tiniest waft of wolfsbane. Letting the faint trail guide him, Eskel rounded the corner to a rickety shack on the edge of the tannery pits. This must be Rowan’s home, Eskel concluded. Knocking on the door Eskel waited. Eventually, the door creaked open and Rowan appeared mug in hand. Forcing his way past the barely open door Eskel shut it behind himself.

“Bloody hells witcher! I told ya, I dinnae have anything to say,” Rowan’s eyes were frightened.

“Look I know you killed the boy,” Eskel spoke calmly and quietly not wanting to be overheard as he searched the one room shack for the source of the wolfsbane, “And I think I kno-”

“If’n ya gonnae kill me witcher just do it,” Rowan said harshly, a resigned look taking over his face.

“-I never said I was going to kill you.”

“Ya said I killed the boy, so you’ll kill me, take my head as yer trophy. It’s what witchers _do_ ,” Rowan spat the last word at Eskel giving him an ugly look.

Eskel reeled back slightly at the insult, “Witchers aren’t monsters, anymore than you are. We don’t kill for the thrill of it. We didn’t ask for our fate anymore than you did. All I can do with my fate is to try to keep people safe. Do you want my help or do you want me to let them run you off, try to kill you like the _werewolf_ that you are?”

“Ya’d help a monster?” Rowan asked incredulously.

“You’re only a monster if you choose not to control yourself, and according to the merchant you have been here a long time without causing any issue so I don’t think you’re a monster. No more than I am at least.” Eskel shrugged, still searching around the cabin for the source of the smell. “Who gave you this?” He pointed at a bag of tea on the table next to the remains of Rowan’s forgotten lunch.

Eyebrows slightly raised Rowan replied, “Sven, the merchant, why? He gave it ta me as a gift fer my years of good trade on furs an’ hides. Chamomile and lavender fer better sleep he said.”

“Lavender to better mask the taste of the wolfsbane more like it,” Eskel sighed. Men were assholes, brutal and monstrous all on their own sometimes. “Stay here while I go talk to him,” Eskel ordered firmly. No sense in giving Rowan something to be truly guilty of by letting him get his claws on Sven now.

 

Eskel took the tainted tea leaves and stalked back to Sven’s tent. What could drive the man to poison Rowan this way? He had to know what he was doing, there was no normal reason to add wolfsbane to a tea.

 

At Eskel’s approach Sven smiled oddly, “Did you find your beast to kill Master Witcher?”

“I found a monster, but he’s no beast,” Eskel set the tea and the brooch on Sven’s table inside the open air tent.

“You can’t- You don’t understand,” Sven stammered.

“You’re right about that. I don’t understand how you’d kill an innocent boy.”

“He did it!” Sven yelled, “He did it all, he ruined my family’s business in Dorve, he got away with it then. He killed the boy, don’t let him get away with that too!”

“You killed the boy, your actions caused it, not his,” Eskel shook his head.

“No!” Sven screamed, and Eskel saw the flash of metal as he draw a dagger.

“Bad plan buddy,” Eskel’s steel sword slid from it’s sheath with ease as he dodged out of the way.

 

Sven screamed like a madman as he lunged at Eskel again. And really only a madman would attack a witcher. Eskel rolled on the damp earth to evade him. By now the guards had gathered and the old woman was watching from a distance, her giant dog at her side still. Eskel’s reach was far longer than Sven’s and his sword was able to drive out and slice into the merchants shoulder. Wild eyed with spittle on his lips, Sven kept pressing at Eskel though, leaving him no choice but to cut him down as the camp looked on. It was hardly a fair fight.

 

All of Sven’s screaming about a nameless man, and charging at an overly armed witcher with only a dagger, served to convince the camps inhabitants that he had gone stark raving mad though. Which saved a lot of explaining on Eskel’s part. He was able to pass Camden’s horrendous injuries off as the scavenging of the forest wolves after Sven attacking the boy in the night in a fit of madness.

 

Rowan admitted to Eskel privately that he had come across Camden right outside the camp in the night, probably gone to relieve himself, when he had lost all control and transformed. Rowan hadn’t understood why at the time, but after talking to Eskel about what Sven had said he suspected that Sven was related to the sheep farmer from Dorve. When he was first cursed, before he’d learned to control it, he had accidentally decimated a whole herd in a night. Despite giving the farmer all he had, he was sure it would run them under and was run out of town. Rowan was despondent Sven had spent all those years getting to know him only to make sure it was really him so he could try to have him killed. Years of lies weighed down hard on him.

 

Eskel carried Camden’s remains, and Sven’s dagger- the purported murder weapon- back to Kaer Trolde on Fiorano’s flank to collect his reward. He left Rowan with his sorrow. The man would have to come to terms with what he had done when not under his own will on his own terms- both to Sven’s relatives, and to Camden.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

Across Ard Skellig, over to An Skellig, around the top of the isles to Spikeroog, and south to Faroe Eskel covered most of Skellige that summer. The coin was good, the weather was cool and damp, and slowly he stopped worrying so steadily about what, or more specifically who, Geralt was doing.

Geralt was his own man, Eskel kept telling himself, and that man had shown that he was truly interested in Eskel. What they had was more than friendship alone, more than sex alone, it was special.It was that connection Geralt had said he wanted. He focused on how he felt settled around Geralt. Concentrating on the fact that Geralt always seemed to choose his company over others. It was fine if Geralt needed other things when Eskel wasn’t available, he wasn’t getting that connection from those people. Getting physical relief from the hunger for touch was something Geralt would always need. It wasn’t fair of Eskel to demand he go all summer without it knowing how naturally the desire for it came to Geralt he’d decided.

 

By the time Eskel boarded the boat back to Novigrad early in the fall he felt content. Eager even, to be on his way home. Knowing that Geralt would be there craving connection with him too. Content that Kaer Morhen was home, full of his comforts however meager they were. Lambert, barely out of the keep and already a master at making homebrew spirits that could knock even a witcher on his ass. Vesemir with his sage advice no matter how unwelcome it might be sometimes. Cuinn with his sardonic laconic take on everything. The frozen ground, ice-covered lakes, and bone rattling wind of the Blue Mountains in wintertime. His room, with it’s plain bed and furniture, was the one place that was truly Eskel’s year in and year out. Kaer Morhen was where Eskel belonged, with Geralt.

 

The docks in Novigrad smelled like gull shit and old beer. The underlying saltwater smelled rotten from the sewage the city spewed out on a daily basis. Eskel missed the isles immediately, at least the docks there smelled like gull shit and good beer.

Kicking a long forgotten vial out of his way Eskel led Fiorano through the busy streets towards the center of the city. He needed to stock up a bit for the journey back to Kaer Morhen, he might pick up a contract or two along the way but for the most part he was done for the season. The route he would have to take back would go east along the Pontar, turning north at Ban Gleán following the Lixela River to Ard Carraigh, then north across the plains of Kaedwen to base of the Blue Mountains and home. There were shorter routes, but they cut too close to Hengfors League, and Eskel couldn’t risk running into Deidre still. Well, ever, really. Eskel would avoid it until he heard she’d passed if he had to, which he expected he would.

The consequence of his stupidity was a longer route, which meant a few more supplies to purchase and haul. It was fine really. Fiorano could carry the load easily and Novigrad was full of well stocked shops. At least this year he had plenty of gold in his bags.

 

Eskel found the main market in Hierarch Square. The herbalist had the items he needed to restock his potions. The Kingfisher had a decent price on salted cod and cheese as well as a room to rent for the night. Eskel ventured up to Gildorf though he passed up The Passiflora, Geralt wouldn’t have minded in the slightest if he had sought out another man’s hands but Eskel did. As much as he understood Geralt couldn’t handle waiting that long, Eskel knew that he could wait that long, and it felt wrong to himself not too. Instead he sought out the fine goods merchant there. He was looking for something very specific and when he saw it he knew it. Soft light gray, almost silver but not quite with black tie strings, the braies were made of fine cotton. Breathable and smooth, perfect.

“I’d like two pairs of these please, one size smaller than what would fit me,” Eskel’s request drew a sharp look from the merchant, but they were brought to the counter regardless. Fancy merchants didn’t get filthy rich by turning down gold, Eskel was counting on that.

And a bit of gold it was. Eighty crowns later, Eskel had his prize tucked away in brown paper wrapping. Having had his weapons and armor repaired before leaving Skellige all that was left for Eskel to take care of before calling it a night was his horse. He treated Fiorano to some pampering at one of the local stables, new shoes, some good grain for the night and the promise to return in the morning. He bought a bag of apples for the road before heading back to the inn.

 

He slept peacefully at The Kingfisher, dreaming of Geralt’s warm arms around him and hot breath on his neck. Waking up in the morning he rounded everything he’d purchased up and then retrieved Fiorano from the stable, greeting him with an apple and smile.

 

The path to Kaer Morhen was uneventful. Eskel did pick up a few on contracts. Quick easy work taking out drowners along the river for average pay, the occasional nekker, and a relatively easy nest of endregas. He kept a steady pace towards the Blue Mountains and arrived just as the first snows were swirling around Fiorano’s hooves. The wind picked up as he climbed up the twisted road to the keep on his horse, and Eskel was pleased to see Vesemir raising the gate for him this year.

“I think Geralt is waiting for you in the stable. Some excuse about wanting to show you his new mare,” Vesemir grumbled but there was the smallest hint of a smile on his face.

Eskel forced himself not to rush to the stable, to lead his horse at a normal pace. As soon as he slid off of Fiorano Geralt’s molten gold cat eyes locked on his and Eskel found himself hauled up against the back wall of the stable. Mouth covered by Geralt’s, heat engulfing him as Geralt devoured him. Geralt grasped at his chest armor to hold him steady and licked into his mouth, pressing his advantage and groaning. Mouth traveling, open and tasting mercilessly, licking, teeth scraping lightly Geralt explored up Eskel’s jaw to his ear and then nuzzled down to his neck.

 

“Gods I’ve missed you,” Geralt breathed against his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing what you think so let me know!! The next chapter is already complete, there is no abandoning ship here. All puns intended.


	10. A Warm Winter's Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rotating his ankles, stretching out his toes, and then moving on to go through some actual stretches Eskel took a moment to marvel at how much had changed. Three decades ago they had all been those youth, fresh faced and relatively scar-free, eager (or scared) to become full fledged witchers and set out on The Path. Now they all looked forward each year to returning to Kaer Morhen, to coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is feeling fluffy for these two witchers right now. Also, introducing... Roach #1.   
> Smutty Smutliness lies ahead.
> 
> As always beta read by the lovely [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion). Check them out!

The smells of the stable whirled around Eskel. The dry grassy smell of the hay, the sweaty horses, the manure, but overriding it all was the smell of leather and blade oil. The smell of Geralt. The softness of Geralt’s lips on his neck grounded Eskel, and he slid his arms around Geralt’s waist.

 

“Well that was a warm welcome,” Eskel knocked his head back against the stable wall.

“Hi,” Geralt said meekly, seemly embarrassed by his sudden outburst now that he’d settled, but no less willing to give up his position at Eskel’s neck.

“You got a new horse?” Eskel prodded, knowing Geralt hadn’t outright lied to Vesemir about his reasons for meeting him in the stable.

 

“Mhm. A mare,” Geralt mumbled into his neck. Eskel ran his leather gloved hand up Geralt’s back in a soothing motion, squeezing the back of Geralt’s neck when he reached it. “Name’s Roach,” Geralt murmured so low only Eskel could hear. Eskel’s hand smoothed down Geralt’s back again.

 

“Wanna introduce us?”

Geralt buried his face as far into Eskel’s neck as he could, breathing deeply before replying, “Sure.”

Pulling out from the embrace Geralt led Eskel over two stalls to a gorgeous chestnut mare almost the color of Eskel’s own hair. Roach nickered at Eskel and swished her tail.

 

“She’s calm, smart, fast,” Geralt praised his horse as he stroked her muzzle.

“And you named her Roach?” Eskel let his lack of confidence in the name be heard.

“What? It’s a good name!” Geralt defended.

“Mhm, alright.” 

 

Eskel returned to Fiorano’s stall to retrieve his saddlebags and bedroll. One of the younger recruits would see to brushing his horse, out and getting him fed. Fishing out the paper wrapped parcel from his bags he handed it to Geralt.

 

“For you,” Eskel said simply, “Burn the old ones. I am going to go drop my bags in my room, grab a much needed bath, and a bite to eat. Join me for dinner and some ale?” Eskel kicked at Geralt’s toe with his boot.

“Yeah,” Geralt had a far off look in his eyes as he stared at his package.

Leaving Geralt to ponder his gift Eskel headed up to his room. Dumping his bags in the corner he didn’t bother to unpack beyond finding a clean pair of braies, shirt, and his soap. The bathing room was humid and not too chilly yet, the bones of winter having not really set in yet. Eskel heated his tub with a swish of his fingers in the water, stripped down, and slid in. The near scalding water eased his tension after so long in the saddle. He relaxed, for once enjoying the bath and not having to rush due to the cold. The ghost of Geralt’s lips lingered on his mouth and his neck, making Eskel cock stir with mild interest. It stirred his heart more than anything though. The way Geralt had wanted him when he came back, had been waiting for him and no one else, made Eskel feel remarkable.

 

Scrubbing himself raw, paying close attention to his intimate areas without working himself up, Eskel purged the road dust from his skin. He washed his hair twice just to be sure the grit was gone. Even in between his toes got lathered with soap and rinsed. Dressed in clean braies, shirt, and a pair of soft black suede trousers from his room Eskel sat on his bed to shave. Shaggy brown hair had dried around his face. Running his hands through it Eskel pushed it back out of his eyes and then buckled a belt to hold his trousers in place. Padding downstairs to the kitchen he spied Geralt sitting at an empty table drinking a tankard of ale, waiting for him, as he leaned to the side to talk to another witcher who was relaxing against the wall.

 

Eskel made a beeline for the kitchen, ducking through the door and around the corner. Grabbing a wooden tankard and a bowl from one of the shelves, Eskel found a tapped keg of Kaedweni Stout and filled his tankard to the brim. Using the knife on the table he sliced a bunch of ribbon-thin pieces from the dry salt cured goat leg on the kitchen table and dropped them into his bowl. A ripe fall pear was added to the bowl along with a large handful of walnuts and a roll that appeared to have been baked sometime within the last forty-eight hours. All set Eskel practically danced out of the kitchen and scooted into the seat on the bench next to Geralt.

 

The other witcher he had been talking to had wandered off, leaving them alone in peace for the moment. The smallest of smiles passed over Geralt’s face before he stared down into his ale, overly interested in its color. Eskel noticed Geralt’s thigh pressed up against his though, even if he wasn’t talking. They sat in silence, Eskel eating, Geralt drinking his ale and staring at it pensively as if it might tell him the answers to the questions of life. 

 

Dishes dealt with, stout still in hand Eskel moved to sit in front of the enormous fireplace in the main hall. Geralt sat on the floor across from him reading his bestiary, making notes in it, amending entries where he had new knowledge to add to it. Eskel watched him with fascination, his eyes flitting to Gweld, then the youth running around the main hall still in training. 

 

Gweld sat in the middle facing the fire sharpening his swords on a whetstone. Rotating his ankles, stretching out his toes, and then moving on to go through some actual stretches Eskel took a moment to marvel at how much had changed. Three decades ago they had all been those youth, fresh faced and relatively scar-free, eager (or scared) to become full fledged witchers and set out on The Path. Now they all looked forward each year to returning to Kaer Morhen, to coming home. 

 

They used to beg to leave, now all they could hope for was to return every year still alive. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Geralt close his bestiary and stand up to leave. Eskel didn’t follow. He stayed by the fire, stretching all his limbs and talking with Gweld about their summers for a while longer. Eventually though Eskel couldn’t wait any longer to follow Geralt. Excusing himself Eskel refilled his tankard in the kitchen then headed up to his room.

 

Geralt wasn’t waiting in Eskel’s room when he swung the door open though. Knowing that Geralt’s keen ears could hear him rummaging around in his room, Eskel set about unpacking and putting his things away. Still, Geralt didn’t sneak over to see him. Eskel hummed to himself and decided to seek his lover out. Geralt had clearly been happy he was back so he was feeling confident.

 

There was no need to knock on Geralt’s door. If he was there he had heard Eskel coming. The door to Geralt’s room pushed open easily on well-oiled hinges, and Eskel smiled to see him sitting on his bed in meditation wearing nothing but the new gray cotton braies Eskel had given him. Eskel swished the door closed behind himself and dropped the wooden latch bar into its catch. Turning back to Geralt still smiling Eskel saw his lids flutter as he pulled out of his meditation. Geralt’s golden eyes flashed unreadable for a moment, a small storm behind them.

 

“Hey,” Eskel approached the bed and got up on it walking towards Geralt on his knees. He cupped Geralt’s chin and kissed his mouth. Easy, gentle, and slow.

“Hey,” Geralt breathed back at him, eyes sliding closed to avoid Eskel’s searching gaze.

“What’s wrong?” There was no heat in Eskel’s question, his confidence hadn’t wavered, Geralt was still his and he knew it. He wasn’t more certain of anything else in his long strange life.

“I-” Geralt paused, the words not coming, and Eskel gave him another slow easy kiss, “No one has ever given me a gift like this before.”

 

Eskel grinned against Geralt’s mouth, “Yeah, well you deserve it. You make me feel special.” Geralt tensed almost imperceptibly against Eskel.

“I don’t,” Geralt opened his eyes back up to look at Eskel.

“You do,” Eskel responded firmly. He wasn’t going to argue about this.

“Eskel…” cat eyes shattering with emotion and overly shiny, Geralt started to admit his sins, “You don’t understand, when I am on The Path I-”

“I do understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt stated in defeat looking down.

 

“You don’t need to apologize for being yourself. I understand what you need, maybe better than you do,” Eskel sank his fingers into Geralt’s hair at the base of his skull, tipping his head back and gently forcing Geralt to maintain eye contact while he explained his side of things. “It doesn’t mean I want to hear the details, and it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve me or my gift. All I want is to know, to hear, that I am special to you, that I give you that connection you crave.” Eskel searched Geralt’s face, watching him swallow, watching the breath shudder out of him.

 

“No one could give me what you do,” Geralt whispered.

 

“Then I am not concerned with what you do on The Path to meet your needs. You’re all I need. Just as you are,” Eskel kissed Geralt’s lips, then his jaw, tracing his mouth down to the hallow of his neck and mouthing there. Loosening his hold on Geralt’s hair Eskel found his mouth being devoured by Geralt again, much like he had in the stable. When Geralt broke the kiss two words were whispered near silent against his lips:

“Thank you.”

 

Eskel ran his hands down from Geralt’s face along his sides to grip his ass. It was perfectly firm in his hands, never too little or too much. Kneading it through the braies that he had gifted Geralt, Eskel reveled in the way the cotton felt butter-smooth under his palms. Linen might last longer, but with a high enough quality cotton -meaning enough gold- it could not compare in terms of softness. Eskel wondered how it felt snuggled up against Geralt’s cock and balls. 

 

Eskel allowed his gray shirt to be stripped away by Geralt’s roving hands. Unbuckling his own belt and sliding it out of the loops on his pants so the metal buckle wouldn’t irritate Geralt’s skin, he tossed it on the floor. Geralt fell back effortlessly on the bed when Eskel placed his hand in the middle of his chest and pushed. Hungry eyes drank in Eskel as he abandoned his pants and braies, leaving only clean bare skin.

 

Lifting his hips Geralt moved to remove his own braies as well but Eskel stopped him, “Leave them on.” Eskel laid down beside Geralt and began this fall’s exploration of his new scars. Tracing his fingers over every well known dip and swell, worming his arm under Geralt’s head to offer him a place to rest it.

 

“Bruxa,” Geralt told Eskel when his fingers bumped over three fresh raised scars on his left pectoral, parallel lines evenly spaced.

“Such bitchy bats,” Eskel commiserated, bending over to place a kiss on the new scars, “At least it didn’t bite you.”

 

“Mhm,” Geralt agreed rubbing his thumb lightly over Eskel’s own bruxa bite mark. Years later it still looked like he had enjoyed a rough night with a whore.

 

Letting his tender touches continue, Eskel reaffirmed through his hands to Geralt that what he had said was true, that this was all he wanted from Geralt. Amazing sex aside, Geralt was so much more than that to him. Geralt was home. Taking as much as he gave Eskel let Geralt put his hands anywhere he wanted, in his hair, over his ass, coming to rest lightly at the front of his neck. It was comforting to feel Geralt needing him and Eskel soaked it up like water in a parched desert.

Burrowed into each other as far as they could get, Eskel and Geralt dozed off in the early hours of the evening.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

 

Vesemir stood outside Eskel’s door in the morning, but Eskel wasn’t there, he knew. No heart beat behind that door. Pushing it open with a scrape Vesemir peered into the empty room beyond before closing it. Turning to walk away he strode past Geralt’s door. Pausing he leaned his head toward it, two heartbeats behind that door. Slow and steady in the grasp of sleep. Vesemir sighed to himself and kept on walking.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

 

Waking up with a stiff cock in the morning was nothing new for Eskel. Waking up with toned thighs straddling his waist and another stiff cock sliding along his own was. He didn’t want to open his eyes yet, he wanted to savor the way Geralt felt against his body with all his senses heightened. How he could hear Geralt’s barely labored breathing, feel the bunching of the muscles in his legs, smell the sweet salty tang of Geralt’s arousal blending with his own. Letting his senses guide him Eskel’s hands traveled up Geralt’s thighs, in to trace circles over his strong hips, before taking himself and Geralt in one wide hand.

A gasp rushed out from Geralt’s chest at the grip and he bucked into Eskel’s hand. Hair swept over Eskel’s chest and a hand landed roughly next to his head where Geralt caught himself falling forward. Thumb playing over the head of his own cock and then Geralt’s, solid grip stroking down, Eskel teased them both mercilessly.

 

Opening his eyes to look up at the pleasure written all over Geralt’s face Eskel asked him where the oil was. Once Geralt had obtained the necessary vial from the trunk at the foot of his bed and placed it in Eskel’s hand, Geralt straddled him again. 

 

Eskel beckoned him up further, “I want to suck you.”

 

As Geralt crawled further up Eskel’s body on his knees, Eskel accommodated him by scooting down on the bed until they met, the tip of Geralt’s firm cock resting on Eskel’s lower lip. Flicking his tongue out Eskel tasted it and hummed to himself. Eskel opened his mouth and flattened his tongue, the tip of it just barely licking at Geralt’s cock head, waiting for him to take the invitation. It was warm and solid in his mouth when Geralt leaned over him, bracing against the wall to sink himself into Eskel’s wanton mouth. 

 

Moaning around Geralt’s cock Eskel licked his tongue along the underside. He put his hands on Geralt’s ass to encourage him to take what he wanted. While Geralt’s body was fighting over how much was too much and what he could do that Eskel would enjoy, Eskel was busy popping the cork of the vial of oil. Spreading it onto his fingers, he made his first greeting pass along Geralt’s cleft, over his clenched entrance, along the tender strip of skin in front of it, and around to cup his balls.

 

Sucking in an unexpected breath Geralt swore softly, “Shit, yes.”

Eskel gave Geralt’s oily balls a gentle tug before removing his hand and making the same pass again.

 

“Yes,” Geralt moved his ass back against Eskel’s hand, pulling his cock almost loose from his mouth before plunging back in when Eskel’s hand left again. “Yes. Oh Gods, Yes, please touch me!” Geralt’s voice was a desperate whisper on the third pass when Eskel’ s fingertip caught on his rim for a moment. Eskel could taste Geralt leaking into his mouth and it was intoxicating. “Please, I never,” Geralt begged, “I never let anyone but you touch me like this.”

 

Eskel’s cock jerked hard where it laid on his stomach at that statement. This was reserved only for him?  _ Gods Geralt you’re gonna be the death of me and no witcher is supposed to die in their bed. _ Circling his finger over Geralt’s tight pucker Eskel let his moans wash over him. Concentrating on the way Geralt’s cock jumped and bobbed in his mouth with his finger’s every movement, Eskel carefully spread Geralt open. 

 

Steadily Eskel fucked one finger into Geralt as he sobbed his pleasure above Eskel. Geralt’s cock slipping further and further into Eskel’s throat as he gave up his control to arousal. And when Geralt sounded like he would break, Eskel added another finger, stretching him wide when he drew them out each time.

 

“Oh Fuck. I wanna ride you,” Geralt was trying desperately to be quiet and probably failing. Luckily half the witchers weren’t back for the winter yet, including the ones in the surrounding rooms. Eskel upended the remainder of the oil over his own cock, stroking it to spread it all around with the hand not currently occupied with Geralt’s ass. Teasing a third finger around Geralt’s hole drove him to push further into Eskel’s throat. Eskel groaned at the intrusion but Gods he loved it too. Licking the underside of Geralt’s cock as best as he could with his mouth and throat full Eskel pressed his third finger into Geralt, feeling Geralt’s breath pick up speed as much as he heard it. 

 

Geralt had no where to go to escape the stretch and Eskel wanted to be especially sure he was ready. Sawing his fingers back and forth, seeking the spot that was sure to make Geralt struggle to hold in a scream, Eskel knew he had succeeded when Geralt’s whole body tensed over him. He moved away from the tender bundle of nerves only to return moments later and brush his fingers over it again. Geralt’s hips jerked, choking Eskel. The sheepish look on Geralt’s face as he pulled away, leaving his spit slick cock resting on Eskel’s face, made Eskel grin as he tried to control his cough. Wiggling his fingers over Geralt’s prostate again Eskel gave Geralt a wicked look.

 

“Fuck, Melitele!” Geralt whisper-shouted.

Eskel tried to hold in a laugh, “No, just you.”

“Better get on with it then,” Geralt retorted, “before I lose it on your face.” Now it was Geralt casting wicked looks, one eyebrow raised.

 

“So sure I wouldn’t like that, huh?” Geralt’s hole spasmed around his fingers at that and the grin never left Eskel’s face as he flicked his tongue out to take a quick swipe at the cock on his face. Pulling his fingers out of Geralt caused him to sigh in frustration. 

 

The cocky look stayed on Eskel’s face as he manhandled Geralt down his body. “Thought you wanted to ride me? Better get on with it,” Eskel huffed out.

Settling over Eskel’s waist with an oomph Geralt caught Eskel’s cock in his hand and was already rubbing it against his entrance. Eskel watched mesmerized as Geralt leaned back, arm behind himself to guide Eskel’s thickness in. It was dark in the room still but Eskel’s slitted pupils took it all in, able to see every ridge and divot that Geralt’s scarred chest and thighs put on display. Eskel sucked in a deep breath at the way Geralt’s silky walls clutched at him. Reaching a worshiping hand out to stroke the chest in front of him, Eskel gripped Geralt’s hip with his other hand. Faster than Eskel anticipated Geralt sank down to the base of his cock, muscled ass resting on Eskel’s hips a moment before rocking.

 

“Oh shit,” Eskel breathed out at the unexpected heat blooming rapidly around his cock.

Geralt bent forward to kiss his lips, biting lightly at the corner of his mouth, then leaned back to put his weight over his core. Rising and falling rhythmically, lithe thighs cording with the work of lifting his body, Geralt’s face went slack with bliss. Eskel planted his feet on the bed, doing his best to rise up and let his hips greet Geralt’s each time he fell. Nothing compared to this in Eskel’s mind, the sight of Geralt- his lover - so at ease seeking pleasure from him, and it made his gut ache.

 

Then Geralt changed the angle, leaning farther back hands braced on Eskel’s thighs for balance, and drawing a low moan from Eskel as it rubbed the head of his cock against Geralt’s walls deep inside. Eskel couldn’t help but splay his fingers low over Geralt’s abdomen, feeling there, wishing he could feel himself moving inside. One of Geralt’s hands came to cover his there, fingers spread. Barely audible moans fell from Geralt’s lips but his vertical pupils were blown almost oval and locked on Eskel’s. 

 

“Es-” Geralt started, stopped, “Eskel.”

Eskel flexed his fingers against Geralt’s abdomen.

“Yes, Eskel, Gods.” Geralt came streaking up his stomach, white stripes of come shooting up in the air to land on their hands, ass clenching Eskel’s cock. Eskel’s mouth was locked open in wonder as Geralt rode him through his peak.

“Only…only you get to… have me… like this,” Geralt mumbled through his orgasmic haze.

 

Burning heat flowed through Eskel, pulling from his balls and flowing through his groin, filling Geralt, giving him everything he had.

“Fuck,” Eskel gritted out as his orgasm ripped through him hard. He pulled Geralt down by the neck for a rough, messy kiss, Geralt’s cum smearing between their bodies.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

“Nice of you to join us for breakfast,” Vesemir greeted Eskel when him and Geralt finally made it down to the kitchen.

“Morning,” Geralt greeted their old teacher, looking everywhere in the kitchen but at Vesemir.

“Afternoon,” Eskel looked Vesemir right in the eye, almost daring him to say something more.

 

Geralt had the decency to looked ashamed but Eskel was beyond caring anymore. He was sure Vesemir knew what went on between the younger witchers sometimes carried over as they aged. It wasn’t like he was fucking Geralt on the kitchen table, even if the image was arousing. They were being as discreet as any couple could be in a keep crowded full of man made mutants with enhanced senses.

 

“We are running low on fish for winter,” Vesemir pointed to the barrels of salted trout. Eskel was busy rounding up some of said salted trout, bread, and cheese to have for brunch. Geralt meanwhile was scraping the bottom of the cauldron for what remained of that morning’s oats. Still pointedly acting as though looking at Vesemir might burn his eyes. “I thought maybe you boys would like to go fishing, help stock us back up.”

 

“We could,” Eskel admitted, “But isn’t that more a job for trainees?”

“Normally, yes, but this fall a slyzard matriarch made her home by the lake. That’s why our supply is low to begin with,” Vesemir explained with a sigh, “Look, I don’t need to lose anymore trainees. Against the two of you together, she wouldn’t stand a chance. Kill the beast. Go fishing. It’s simple and you might even enjoy it.”

 

“Sounds… interesting,” Geralt admitted.

“Alright,” Eskel caved, filling his tankard with cider.

“Take a bath first though,” Vesemir frowned, wrinkling his nose slightly, “You smell.” He turned to walk out of the kitchen and Eskel called after him.

“Yes Papa Vesemir!”

Geralt snickered into his bowl of cold oats.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

The rocky path down to the lake behind Kaer Morhen was still iced over with a glaze of frost anywhere the shadows of the pine trees kept the sun at bay. The air had a distinct fall chill but nothing Eskel’s armor couldn’t block out. He flexed his hands inside his leather gloves to keep them warm and watched his breath fog the air in front of him. The sun was bright where it did shine through the trees. Warming the skin on Eskel’s face each time he stepped into it. He carried a large rolled up net and a few extra bombs for fishing. Carefully picking his way down the path in front of him was Geralt, twin swords strapped on his back, silver hair pulled back in a half ponytail, and tight armor hugging his fit body in all the right places. Eskel stared at his ass. Gods it was distractingly perfect.

 

The fishing shack by the boat dock came into view as they approached the lake. Flying high above the lake, circling in the clear sky, was a dull gray hulk of a beast. As big as the largest forktail Eskel had ever seen, but oh so much meaner. Their approach to the shack was cautious and whisper-quiet. Eskel set down his net silently first, then followed Geralt as they circled through the reeds to an area that was more open. Eyes ever on the sky Eskel trusted Geralt to pick a path for them free of obstacles and noise. 

 

Once they were on the flat open strand at the edge of the lake, Geralt made quick work of dousing his silver sword in draconid oil, passing the flask to Eskel for his. Eskel meanwhile downed a Petri’s Philter and Tawny Owl, trading vials of Thunderbolt and Fullmoon to Geralt. Their faces took on a toxic pallor, the veins becoming too visible as the potions worked through their systems. A quick nod of his head told Geralt Eskel was ready to go.

 

Geralt let out a long loud whistle, “Come say hi pretty girl!”

Eskel merely rolled his eyes and gave his sword a testing twirl in his hand, fingers of the other out to his side ready to knock her out of the air at the first chance. Geralt stood, sword at the ready, feet in fighting stance, but Eskel knew he was ready to roll out of the way at the first sign of fire.

 

The slyzard shrieked as it swooped and flapped towards them, rising up and diving down toward Geralt, fire building in its mouth at the last moment. A well practiced roll sent Geralt toward Eskel as Eskel’s Axii thumped into the beast sightless head, tumbling it down. Rough gray leather turned head over tail once in the mud before whipping around, poisonous tail lashing wildly about whacking into the ground at random. Geralt danced in from the side taking a slice at the tendon of its back leg. The sonic screech that followed buffeted both witchers back, knocking Geralt onto his back. 

 

Eskel just managed to get a Quen cast onto him before the slyzard’s tail connected with his side, the Quen exploded outward causing the beast to pull back a fraction. Pressing his advantage Eskel moved forward Aard flying from his fingers, knocking it back. Charging forward he whirled his sword overhead and down hard, once, twice, and then Geralt was right beside him. Silver flashing and flying. When the slyzard matriarch tried in vain to rise up again, Geralt planted his sword in her neck. 

“You stay down,” Geralt ground out, slightly out of breath.

 

Later, once they had skinned the best leather from the beast, stripped the good alchemical parts, and where searching out her nest to burn, Eskel laughed. Geralt raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“She knocked you down,” Eskel stated simply.

“Not a word,” Geralt replied and returned to their task.

 

The nest was on a small island in the lake. Eskel set it alight with his fingers and they watched it burn until nothing but ash was left. Returning to the boat they rowed to the middle of the lake and lowered the net. After waiting for it to settle and the lake to resume its usual routine Eskel lit a bomb with one of Lambert’s special waterproof fuses and tossed it a short distance away. A muted thud was followed by vigorous waves rocking the boat. A few minutes later fish started floating to the top, and they rowed around gathering the edges of the net, trawling up their load. After repeating the process two more times they had a huge load of fish weighing down the small boat.

 

Geralt rowed them back to shore and Eskel worked on piling all of the fish into the middle of the net, tossing back any sticks or worthless detritus. Rolling the net and giving one to Geralt, Eskel took the other end, leading the way back up the path as evening started to set in.

 

“I gotta hand it to that kid Lambert, his fishing method is better,” Geralt said.

“Yeah, but I’ll never tell him that,” Eskel replied wryly, “Don’t want it to go to his head. He’s already kind of an asshole.”

“Nah, he’s not an asshole, he just wants everyone to think he is. People don’t ask assholes many questions.”

Eskel shook his head, “You’re too smart for your own good sometimes.”

“I don’t ask him questions either,” Geralt defended himself, “I let him make his bombs and booze. He’ll figure it out himself in his own time.”

“Or he won’t,” Eskel sighed.

“Have some faith, Eskel, Gods,” Geralt seemed disturbed by Eskel’s lack of hope for the younger witcher.

Eskel snorted back and kept walking up the mountain path.

 

Vesemir was right, in the end. Fishing was enjoyable, fighting a challenging monster with Geralt was enjoyable, letting their skills complement each other like old times was like hot cider by a warm fire. All in all Eskel hadn’t felt more satisfied in years. 

 

Eskel spent the night filling in notes in his own bestiary on slyzard matriarchs, adding in their sonic blast attack and its strength. Geralt snuck into Eskel’s room just before midnight, placing an open mouthed kiss to the back of Eskel’s neck, twining their fingers together before pulling Eskel toward the bed. Flicking the candles and lamps out with his fingers before sliding under the blanket with Geralt, Eskel held him close. Neither bothered to shuck their braies or shirts as they cuddled around each other, kissing languidly for a long time before drifting off. Eskel had everything he needed in his arms and it was good to be home. His sleep was deep, long and restful.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for your feedback! Let me know if I made you happy, sad, mad, horny, or hungry!


	11. Monstrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the base of the Blue Mountains they passed a group of unruly peasants who screamed at them about being children stealing spawn of the devil. That was nothing new, but the number of pitchforks and scythes among them was higher than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one, but next chapter is normal length I promise.
> 
> All hail the mighty [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion) for handling Beta on this. They are amazing!

Looking to get a solid start on the summer ahead of them Eskel and Geralt had decided to leave the keep before the spring snows had fully thawed. Lambert, claiming he couldn’t stand the cold, or being around so many people any longer, planned to follow the day after. The path down the mountain wasn’t the easiest, still covered in ice in places, especially in the early morning and evening. They would ride to Ard Carraigh together and then planned to go their separate ways from there. 

 

At the base of the Blue Mountains they passed a group of unruly peasants who screamed at them about being children stealing spawn of the devil. That was nothing new, but the number of pitchforks and scythes among them was higher than usual. Having horses had the benefit of being able to outrun angry villagers who traveled by foot though. 

 

Eskel vaguely wondered which one of their brothers had managed to rile them so badly. Whoever it was they deserved a lecture from Vesemir next winter. For now though, Eskel was completely content to have Geralt share his bedroll in the spring chill of the mountains, curled around his back, arm thrown around Eskel’s waist, knees tucked close up behind his own. 

 

Only forest and mountains rested between the keep, Vespaden, and Ard Carraigh. No chance of anyone stumbling on them when Geralt’s leg snaked it’s way between the back of Eskel’s knees, settling there comforting and warm. No risk of being overheard when Geralt’s hand moved lower than his waist, fingers cupping around him. The firm press of the heel of Geralt’s hand drawing a heady moan from Eskel as those talented fingers delved further pressing into the leather seam between his legs. No one but the two of them as Geralt eagerly stoked back over Eskel’s growing hardness and dipped back in between his legs to press against him there, again and again. Only Geralt to hear Eskel’s keening cries when he finally sought out the ties of Eskel’s leathers, loosening them and working his hand inside.

 

Knowing fingers loosely circled Eskel’s swollen cock, tugging on it with a slack grip. Hot breath drifted over his neck with Geralt’s words, “I like hearing you fall apart.”

 

An electric bolt of arousal shot from Eskel’s neck to his groin, his cock jerking with sensitivity in Geralt’s hand and the tender skin behind his balls throbbing at those words. A shudder and a moan racked his body. 

 

“Fuck,” Eskel muttered under his breath, arching his hips to push his cock through Geralt’s loose grip.

“You like it when I touch you like this?” Geralt’s lips smiled against his neck, right below his ear. Warm kisses teased the base of Eskel’s skull and he could only groan in response, breath stuttering out as he rocked his hips back and thrust forward again through Geralt’s fingers. Slowly fucking himself in Geralt’s hand, the wool blanket draped over them sealing their heat in. Geralt didn’t touch him like this often, and Eskel loved it. The sparks his fingers had spread when they reached between Eskel’s legs lingered.

“Gods, Geralt. Yes.” 

 

Eskel reached a hand behind his head grasping for Geralt, for something to hold onto. Catching his fingers in Geralt’s hair, Eskel pulled him close and held Geralt’s lips against his neck as he thrust erratically.

“More please,” Eskel’s request was almost inaudible in between his heavy breaths. Geralt would always be able to hear him though.

 

“More?” Interest was obvious in Geralt’s voice, his kisses turning into hard sucking on Eskel’s neck. Eskel rushed to shove his leathers lower, more than halfway down his thighs, almost dislodging Geralt’s leg wedged between his knees.

 

Coming up on one elbow Geralt rose over Eskel, “Like this?” Geralt’s hand left Eskel’s cock, cupping his balls, reaching behind them to press the pads of his fingers right into the deep-seated ache he’d left in his wake earlier.

 

“Oh. Fuck. Fu-” Eskel’s words were swallowed by Geralt’s open sloppy kiss.

“Yeah?” Geralt breathed the question into Eskel’s mouth when he broke the kiss.

 

“Fuck. Yes,” Eskel took his own cock in his hand stroking himself in time with Geralt’s fingers gently circling, edging closer and closer to his furl. Geralt’s mouth was on his again, quieting his needy moans with a searching tongue. Cock throbbing with each stroke Eskel was lost in a haze of pleasure, only coherent of his desire for Geralt to move his fingers just a bit further.

 

“More?” Geralt’s question barely registered with Eskel, but when it did Eskel couldn’t stop the way his hips bucked against Geralt’s exploring hand.

 

“Yes!” The movement caused Geralt’s fingers to run over his hole and Eskel drew in a ragged breath, “Fu- fuck. Yes.” Eskel’s hips lurched back and forward, dragging Geralt’s fingers back over his hole again. Harsh pants escaped his mouth until Geralt captured it again. Eskel barely lasted a few more thrusts before the world was blurring out and pure ecstasy was rolling through him. Body gone rigid in Geralt’s arms, roar of pleasure swallowed by his mouth, Eskel painted his own hand and Geralt’s forearm white.

 

Eskel marked time as he came back to his senses by the deep breaths he pulled in through his nose, slowly one after the other. Geralt’s mouth still occupied his own with an easy unassuming kiss. Blinking sleepily back to reality he felt Geralt’s hand resting just under his tunic, drawing lazy circles in his abdomen.

 

“Geralt,” Eskel breathed out against his lips, “Fuck, that was-” Geralt’s arousal pressed into his bare hip caught his attention- “everything I ever wanted.” Eskel was awake now, aware of Geralt’s need. And he’d never wanted to consume Geralt more. Deftly he rolled Geralt flat on his back, knocking the air out of his lungs.

 

“Gonna make you scream my name,” Eskel growled against Geralt’s neck as he nipped and sucked at it. The gasp it drew from Geralt was utterly satisfying. Sitting back to remove Geralt’s leather and mail chest piece Eskel saw his slit pupils were blown almost round. Chest bared, Eskel roughly unbuckled Geralt’s belt and leathers, rising to allow him to lift his hips so that they could be pulled down past his ass. The wool blanket was lost in the fray when Eskel moved aside to finish stripping Geralt’s leathers off, exposing him to the cold air with a hiss.

 

Eskel wasted no time spreading Geralt’s legs wide, seating himself inside them. Any breath Geralt had managed to regain went rushing out of him when Eskel swallowed his cock down in one swift movement.

 

“Oh Gods!” Geralt managed when he got air back in his lungs. Eskel worked his throat around Geralt’s length where it lodged in his throat, moaning at the intrusion. Geralt’s hot length still stuffed in his throat Eskel wiped what was left of the spend on his hand over Geralt’s tender entrance. “Shit, Eskel! What-” Eskel massaged his own cum against Geralt’s pucker sliding one finger in and back out, repeating the motion.

“Eskel,” Geralt bucked his hips up into Eskel’s mouth, and Eskel let him take what he needed. “Please, please, so good.”

 

Crossing one finger over the first Eskel thrust in with both and Geralt cried out hoarsely. It wasn’t oil but it was enough and Eskel was desperate. Smelling himself all over Geralt as he bobbed up and down with each erratic shove of Geralt’s hips wasn’t exactly a deterrent either. Prodding Geralt’s prostate with his fingertips Eskel withdrew his fingers and plunged them back in just to hear Geralt gasp and grunt with it.

 

It was hurried, hot, and sloppy. Eskel kept it up anyway riding the last edges of his own high and wanting to share it with Geralt. Merciless in his touches, he screwed his wrist each time he sank his fingers in, bringing his fingers past Geralt’s prostate over and over until Geralt grabbed his hair.

 

“Eskel!” 

Geralt’s cock jerked in his mouth and Eskel sealed his lips around the head. Licking rapidly at the tip, Eskel savored the sound of Geralt’s cries in his ears and his taste on his tongue.

 

The followed the Gwenllech River until it met the Buina. There at the confluence was an abandoned farm, fields long since gone back to the wild. By the old barn though, were dozens upon dozens of tracks. Horse hoofprints, cart wheel tracks, the boots of men. Frozen in the cold mud, coming from every which way towards them, stopping suddenly and disappearing where the grass was blown flat against the ground. Faint tickles of magic still lingered in the air around the barn.

 

“Looks like someone portaled a small army from here,” Geralt observed, crouched down in the blown grass, rubbing a dead brown piece between his fingers before throwing it on the ground.

 

“Radowit¹, what are you up too?” Eskel aimed his question at nothing and no one in particular as he looked around the surrounding land in the distance.

Standing Geralt smirked at Eskel, “Whatever it is, it doesn’t involve us. We remain neutral. Let’s get going.”

 

The ride south to Ard Carraigh got easier as they went. The weather warmed slightly. The ground thawed under Fiorano and Roach’s hooves. There was a peace in being able to spend time alone with Geralt that Eskel couldn’t find even in Kaer Morhen, as much as it was home. Here in the woods they didn’t need to hide, there was no one to hide from. Only their horses were witness to their easy touches, gentle laughs, and untroubled, sometimes needy kisses.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

And then the world fell apart in the spring of 1228. 

 

 

_ In truth, there is naught more repulsive than these monsters that defy nature and are known by the name of witcher. They are the offspring of foul sorcery and witchcraft. They are veritable scoundrels without conscience and virtue, unscrupulous creatures off hell able only to take lives. They have no place amongst decent and honest folk. _

_ And this keep, this Kaer Morhen where these villains nest and practice their foul rituals must be wiped from the earth, all traces of it treated with salt and saltpeter to complete the deed. _

_ For it is well known that when a witcher inflicts torment, suffering and death, he experiences a semblance of pleasure and delight, the kind a normal and righteous man only feels when performing his marital duties with his spouse, ibidem cum eiaculatio. From this it clearly follows that the witcher is, in the very matter of his being, a defiler of nature, an immoral and loathsome degenerate, born from the darkest and rankest depths of hell, for only one such as the devil himself can derive pleasure from suffering and torment. _

_ -Monstrum, or a Portrayal of Witchers _

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

Ard Carraigh looked no different than in all its years past when Eskel and Geralt rode in through its wooden gates. Mud sloshed in the spring streets, splashing everything around it brown. People hid their children from them as they trotted by. Some stared openly in awe. Eskel caught small snippets of whispers here and there:

_ “I thought they were all dea-” _

_ “Will ya look at that?” _

_ “-asn’t even a reason.” _

 

Stopping at the market to buy a bag of apples for his horse and a wheel of cheese for himself, Eskel didn’t pay any attention when the merchant stood slack-jawed, taking his coin without a word. Whatever, some people were assholes, Eskel had learned that long ago. Geralt had bought two loaves of bread and they traded a loaf for half the cheese wheel.

 

It wasn’t until they reached the inn looking forward to sleeping on real beds, or possibly even one real bed together that the absolute horror of everything came crashing down upon them. The inn keep regarded them with the sheet white face one normally reserves for discovering a spotted wight in the basement.

“A room with two beds if you’ve got one,” Eskel asked politely, “And stables for our horses.”

“I heard-” the inn keep got tangled up in his words, reeking of sweat he continued “-heard they killed… all of you.” He swallowed hard. “How’d you managed to survive?”

 

Geralt gave the man a biting look, “What do you mean ‘How’d we survive?’”

“The-” the man’s gulping noise grated on Eskel’s ears, “The mages.”

Plotting the things they’d seen since leaving the keep: the angry armed peasants, the trampled land leading to a portal site, the whispers and more scared than usual stares, Eskel’s mind started to form a grim picture. Eskel rushed forward grabbing at the inn keeps tunic and shaking him harshly.

 

“What,” Eskel ground out, “did we survive? Exactly.” The inn keep stared blankly at Eskel with eyes far too wide and Eskel shook him again voice lowering to a growl, “Tell. Me. Now.”

 

“The villagers from around Vespaden. Some mages. Sorcerers. They got them riled up. Against you witchers,” The inn keep drew a deep breath and continued, “says you’re all devilspawn. Mutated freaks. They were marching on the keep. When they came back. They said none of you witchers liv-” The inn keep’s legs crumpled under him, Eskel dumping him on the floor in a flurry as he turned and ran out the door. Geralt right behind him.

 

The door to the inn slammed behind them, startling the people in the street. Geralt reached Roach first, heaving himself up into the saddle and turning her to the town’s gate. Eskel barely caught the movement out of the side of his eye as he leapt onto Fiorano. Out the gate and on the mud-slick trail before what he’d even registered fully, Eskel tried to suppress his fears. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. The witcher’s trail was hidden well, deep within illusions wove by the errant mage that assisted in The Trials. Cuinn, Vesemir, Lambert, Clovis, Gweld- they couldn’t all be gone. Horse sweat and acrid sickly fear surrounded him. He could barely smell Geralt’s blade oil under it all, and Eskel knew the fear he smelled was only their own.

 

What had taken a week before was covered in three days. They stopped only to rest the horses, let them graze and drink. Taking turns meditating, because sleep was not a luxury they could allow themselves knowing what they might be heading to. Each day that they didn’t come across Lambert on the road Eskel’s heart sank further. The younger witcher had said he was setting out right behind them.

 

Reaching the base of the Blue Mountains Eskel steered Fiorano onto the witchers trail. Winding up the mountains, down into the valleys and back up, Eskel’s senses were on full alert. There was nothing to hear or see. All around it was silent, preternaturally so, only the creatures of the mountains peeking their heads out of the trees in curiosity as they moved along the twisting path. Coming into the valley below the keep Eskel smelled confirmation of his every fear. Burnt wood, and scorched earth hung dead in the mountain air. He couldn’t see it and yet he already knew it was true, the people had come for Kaer Morhen. His home. Eskel rode up next to Geralt and reached over squeezing his thigh tightly, legs bumping in their saddles.

 

“We weren’t here,” Geralt’s voice was a broken whisper.

“I know.”

 

The gate was up, open and defenseless. Eskel left Fiorano outside with Roach, roaming just in case any attackers remained. Steel sword held to tight in his grip, he stalked into the lower courtyard with Geralt at his side. The smell of death was everywhere. The stables were burnt to the ground. Gweld laid backwards over a low stone wall at an awkward angle. Skin mottled and gray, no life behind his cloudy eyes. Eskel moved past trying to keep his blurry eyes focused, to watch out for threats. Up the stone steps and around another low stone wall the wooden shacks that held the practice swords where a charred wreck too. A few bodies were curled up in the smoldering ruins. The youngest trainees who had tried to hide or go for the only sword at hand maybe. One last level up into the training yard and movement swam through Eskel’s vision. Slowly someone or something dragged across the far end of the courtyard.

 

“Stop!” Eskel screamed, charging at it.

 

The figure slumped down into a heap. Eskel blinked trying to clear his vision. He was halfway across the yard when he recognized the bloody body of Hemminks at the front of the heap. Vaguely Eskel heard his own name, heard Geralt’s voice calling him, telling him to stop. Still he almost ran Vesemir through before he realized who was collapsed on their knees behind the bloody body. Exhausted, covered in soot and blood, tear stains on his face having long since turned the dirt there to mucky streaks, Vesemir held his head in his hands looking out over the bodies of all of his charges and comrades.

 

It took them over a week to bury all the dead. The fires of the pyres burned long into each night. None remained alive save Vesemir. He had gone out far into the valley to harvest winter herbs. When the smoke rose visibly in the valley he had hurried back but the damage was already done, those not already dead were near it, and none could be saved. Lambert had indeed left within the day after Eskel and Geralt but had headed straight south to Ban Ard according to Vesemir. 

 

In the proverbial blink of an eye most everyone Eskel knew was dead. His home left partially a ruin, though the stones of the main keep were unharmed much needed repair; and only four witchers were left to do the work. All Eskel could do was curl up each night on his bed pulling Geralt close to smell the leather and blade oil on his hair, hoping to wash away the smell of fire, death, and decay. They didn’t talk of it. Eskel couldn’t, the guilt was too heavy. It was pure luck that they had been spared. Desire, that had led them to leave early and spend some time alone away from their comrades. And for that their friends had died.

 

Like all things slow and insidious, the first sparks had gone ignored, until the fire raged out of control, unstoppable, and devastating. Monstrum had circulated for a few years already, penned by an anonymous sorcerer. Witchers who came across copies had used it for kindling in their campfires and thought no more of it. Plenty of villagers had called them creatures of hell, monsters, freaks and worse over the decades. Yet those same men and women had still paid coin when vampires came calling. And so it had been for centuries.

 

Ever since the conjunction and the monstrosities that came with it, villagers might fear a witcher but they were always seen to be the lesser evil in the end. While it came as a surprise that the tome had pointed out Kaer Morhen by name, the Witcher’s Trail to the stronghold had been well hidden and guarded by illusions no peasant stood a chance against. There was no need to worry. There had never been a danger over twenty well trained witchers and forty-some students could not conquer. Eskel himself had even thumbed through the pages of propaganda wondering how anyone could really believe every piece of it. Musing to himself that killing monsters was nowhere near the endorphin rush of bedding Geralt. 

 

Whether the propaganda was born or jealousy from the sorcery community because witchers made use of limited amounts of magic, something sorcerers and sorceresses studied long and hard to master; or whether it was born of ignorance, the result was the same. Ignorance breeds fear, and fear breeds violence. Violence came naturally to witchers, it was a skill they mastered at a young age. Insecurity did not come naturally to Kaer Morhen though, and that was the witchers’ downfall.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ RADOWIT II- Also known as Radowit the Bold was a king of Kaedwen after the reign of Benda and before the rule of Henselt. The current King of Kaedwen during the year this takes place. Also the sponsor of a tournament between the Wolf and Cat schools that ended in the murder of many Wolves further damaging the Cat school reputation (which I do not address in Eskel's story because time reasons)
> 
> ALSO- I am not sorry. This chapter had to happen! But please don't kill me. It gets better?


	12. The Color of Pine Needles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deidre sat wrapped in a thick wolf fur, on a downed log next to a single canvas tent. On one side of her sat two ferocious looking wolves, hunchbacked, with fur as black as ravens. Her blonde hair was cropped so short it skimmed her pale cheekbones, but her lips at least still held a childish pink hue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion) is my amazing beta reader, check them out, they write some amazing things as well :) and I cannot thank them enough for telling me when to chop a chunk out and slice a sentence to two or even three bits.
> 
> A few quick heads up for this chapter: 1)there is a semi graphic injury description (no blood but I am warning for it anyway) 2) not the changing tags as the relationship between Eskel and Geralt grows and changes over time (its slow and natural but if its not your cup of tea feel free to abandon ship I guess)

Large drops of water splattered the roads as Eskel guided Fiorano toward to Hairy Bear in Vizima. It was still early fall but the rains had started to settle in for winter already, leaving to roads muddy. Even the paved streets in town were tracked over with slippery mire from nearby dirt trails. With the mild lake winds it wasn’t overly cold, nothing like what it would get in the Blue Mountains, but Eskel would be glad to get a room and out of the wet regardless.

 

Eskel’s first order of business was getting his horse a covered stall and a dry meal of hay; the second was getting two slices of still warm ham wrapped in grease paper and a couple of hard rolls. Securing a room for himself for two nights at the same time, Eskel paid in advance and then darted across the street to Eager Thighs.

Plenty of the girls were new and didn’t know him. They approached him with gold in their eyes, some shying away when they saw his own unnatural gaze, others looking a bit fascinated, possibly even excited at the prospect of testing out the limits of that infamous witcher stamina.

 

Before anyone could get too clingy Eskel launched into his explanation, “I’m just looking for the Mistress of the House, Aldith. If she’s still here.”

“Aye, she is,” a strong Skelliger accent pulled his attention immediately. “follow me witcher.”

The woman who approached to lead him away was powerfully built. Wide hips, thick thighs, and tall—with flame red hair. If he had to guess Eskel would put her in her fourth decade at the very most. Her fair skin showed plenty of freckles, but few wrinkles. A lone steel bangle jostled on her wrist as she led him up to Aldith’s rooms, barely knocking before pushing the door open.

 

“Aldie,” she called, “you’ve a visitor.” Then she walked away back down the stairs, her casual demeanor well practiced.

Entering the room, Eskel saw Aldith slowly rousing from sleep in her giant bed. She was fully dressed, lying atop the blankets. It looked as though she’d merely laid down to rest her head and hadn’t planned on falling asleep. Her hair had gone nearly wraith-white with time and it was mussed up along one side of her face, falling out of her braid; her face was still lively and tanned though. There were more creases around her mouth and her eyes than the last time Eskel had seen her, but as soon as her eyes landed on him they lit up like candles. Swinging her legs down she held her arms out for a hug.

 

“Eskel! Come here,” she squealed. Eskel gave her a wry smile back, but began walking over to her immediately.

“Aldie, huh?” His smile broke into a grin as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him with the surprising strength one sometimes finds in their elders. He held their food out to the side in one hand lest it spill and let her wring out her emotions. Grounded by her energy engulfing him, Eskel was relieved she was still here, still alive.

“I see you’ve met Marsali,” Aldith ducked her head into the crook between Eskel’s neck and shoulder.

 

“Mhm, long enough to notice your missing a bangle from your arm.”

The laugh that reverberated through Eskel’s neck was low and full of life, and Aldith’s ribs shook in the cage his arm had created around her. He really didn’t want to let her go, he wanted to stay within her arms for a while, feel comforted by her presence, even if it was unnecessary. Aldith would spend time with him, she always did.

“I smell food. Come let’s eat and drink,” the air against Eskel’s neck cooled as Aldith withdrew from her hug.

 

Eskel let her up off the bed, Aldith pointed to the couch by the low table, so he settled there while she went to her sidebar to retrieve suitable drinks. Unwrapping the sweetly cured ham Eskel placed one piece and a hard roll on each plate Aldith brought over. A full bottle of Temerian Pepper vodka was placed behind his plate, a single shot glass next to hers. She handed him a cold pot of water.

 

“Do me a favor and warm that up?” Aldith asked with a grin.

“What am I now, your pet witcher?” He laughed back at her as he dipped his fingers in the water, swishing them to and fro as the Igni did its work. “You only allow me to visit for my hot water skills?”

 

Taking the pot back Aldith dropped her tea bag into it and set it on the table to steep. Relaxing sideways on the couch she propped her feet up on Eskel’s thighs. “Now that’s not true at all. You make a wonderful footstool as well,” again that low lively laugh cascaded out of her chest. “And really no more than I am your pet whore.”

 

Eskel raised an eyebrow to her at that and uncorked the pepper vodka. He already felt better just being around her. “I want at least one shot out of that bottle by the way,” she wagged a finger at him. Pausing with it two thirds of the way to his mouth he stopped, poured her glass full and then took a huge swig. He tore into his ham with gusto, one hand still periodically bringing the vodka to his lips. Watching as Aldith nibbled on hers, poured her tea, and downed her shot motioning aimlessly for a second. Eskel refilled her glass and continued to work his way through the food, slowly drying out from the incessant rain outside.

Once their dinner was gone, and Eskel had heated a second pot of water for Aldith’s tea she crawled up into Eskel’s lap and rested her head against his shoulder, sliding her arm around his back. Eskel shifted to allow her to get comfortable before spiking her tea with a bit of his vodka and taking another swig.

 

“So, Aldie, gonna tell me about this Marsali girl?” He loosed the tie on her braid and began to run his fingers in her ghost white hair undoing the plait.

“Ah, she treats me good,” Aldith smiled at Eskel’s shoulder then looked up, “Would you believe she still finds my hair attractive, hell, finds me attractive at this age?”

Eskel let out a buzzed snort, “Yes.”

 

“She came to work here about four years ago, from Novigrad, and a tiny tavern on the Isles before that. Full of piss and vinegar. Takes all kinds, makes them want to come back. Makes me want to come back,” Aldith sighed. “What about you? Did that man of yours ever come to his senses?” Eskel groaned. Just thinking about it stirred him up, he’d gone all summer without Geralt’s touches and he was so close to being home for winter he could almost feel Geralt’s hot hands splaying over his skin.

“Yea, he did. I did. We both did.”

 

Aldith giggled at that, high and squeaky, a little drunkenly. Nothing like her low throaty laugh before. “And…?” She urged him to continue.

“It’s good, it’s so good, Aldith. I mean he is a little like you, he enjoys everyone and everything, so during the summers apart-,” Eskel thought carefully how he wanted to explain this to Aldith so she wouldn’t get the wrong impression of Geralt, “-when he is hungry just for physical touch he seeks that out from others and that’s alright.”

 

“That’s… generous… of you. You’re not really the type to share when it’s serious,” Eskel was relieved to see that she meant that honestly without thinking ill of Geralt for his needs. He should have known he didn’t need to worry, she always understood him so well, she would understand Geralt too, because Geralt was a part of him.

 

Eskel continued explaining, “But when he’s there with me we have this attachment. We fit so well together, it’s more than just a good lay, it’s knowing what he wants in his oats in the morning after we are done, and him knowing that I like to treat my stallion with apples. It’s knowing each others fighting style and matching it. The fucking is phenomenal too though.”

 

Letting Aldith use him as a seat cushion for an evening, getting buzzed with her, even getting almost teary eyed as he recounted the destruction Kaer Morhen had faced only four years ago did Eskel’s mind good. He tried desperately not to show it, especially to Geralt but he sometimes feared the fickleness of fate now. The idea that what was here now could be gone in an instant, and there was nothing he could do to change it terrified him. Spending time with those who remained, as well as working to rebuild the keep, helped settle that fear but it always remained hidden somewhere deep in his bones.

 

At the end of a long night of visiting, Eskel wished both Aldith and Marsali a good night. The rain had thankfully let up by the time he crossed the street back to the Hairy Bear to pass out in the room he’d rented earlier. The next day he purchased repairs for his armor, enough trail rations to make it back up to Kaer Morhen, and a few other oddball supplies he needed. Eskel headed into the Alley Along the Walls in the Trade Quarter and spotted the gift merchant immediately. Known for his exotic wares, Eskel approached, casting a keen eye on the display, hoping he had what he was looking for.

 

Eskel never got strange looks when asking merchants about buying new pairs of braies, even when he asked about high quality ones from fancy merchants that normally looked down their noses at a witcher like him. The strange looks only came after, when he asked to buy two pairs in a size smaller than he wore. No merchant had turned away his gold yet though. And this one was no different.

 

Having secured all the supplies he needed for his return trip to the Kaer Morhen for the winter, Eskel strolled back to the Hairy Bear with two of the most luxurious pairs of braies he had ever laid eyes on rolled up and wrapped in paper, tucked under his arm. The color of pine needles, and made of smooth silk that ran between his fingers almost like a liquid, Eskel couldn’t wait to see them on Geralt. Couldn’t want to wait to put his hands on Geralt’s ass swathed in the cool forest green fabric, feel his firm muscles encased in delicate silk. Just the thought made Eskel’s cock harden and ache in his leathers. He did his best to be inconspicuous when he had to adjust himself for relief so he could continue walking.

 

Another night and a hearty breakfast of mystery sausages and hard boiled eggs saw Eskel ready to set out. Armor picked up he stopped for a quick shot of rye whiskey to toast a safe journey with Aldith while Marsali looked on contentedly. Lastly he filled his waterskin with fresh clean water from the town well before mounting Fiorano and letting the horse plod his way out of Vizima.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

East along the Ismena River Eskel carved his way to White Orchard. Finding that easy rhythm he so often did when on The Path with Fiorano. At the White Orchard Inn Eskel drank a strong Mahakaman Mead and listened to the locals talk in hushed tones about their young lord, Ignatius Verrieres, while he ate a simple plate of fall apples and cheese. His wife had recently given birth to a son, and Verrieres had taken to the occasional drunken outburst in celebration. None seemed too impressed by his behavior, but even more so-none seemed willing to call him out on it either. Peasants and nobles. He let out a resigned sigh before securing a room for the night. Eskel hated politics.

 

Eskel made good time as he passed through Burdoff, and Ellander, crossing the Pontar at Flotsam. The red, yellow, and dead brown leaves were falling from the trees ever faster the further he rode. The tall grass underfoot was trodden flat and sloppy with mud in places from the frequent fall rainstorms. Puddles gathered closer and closer together on the dirt tracks until the road became only a ribbon of muck the width of a cart, dredged deep with ruts.

 

By the time Eskel had arrived in Ban Gleán he was relieved to not spend another night sleeping rough in the wet fall conditions. Enough so that he even splurged on a hot bath, along with his bed and dinner. Being able to withstand extreme conditions did not mean he enjoyed feeling wet to the bone for days on end.

 

The innkeeper was a tall black haired Aen Seidhe, olive tunic held tight around her by a drab brown vest that matched her suede pants. She was more than pleasant to Eskel when she served the spicy parsnip and rabbit kabobs available for dinner, even offering to sell him a bag of the ginger and curry spice if he was interested. Thinking of the long winter ahead in a keep that still had anguish tucked in every corner, and not enough hopefulness to stretch between the remaining four witchers, Eskel bought two.

 

In the morning when he went to the table to saddle Fiorano everything was covered in a perfect white sheen of frost. The dead leaves sparkled in the early sun, and the muck no longer gripped his boots but instead crunched satisfyingly beneath them. The air was chilly and Eskel could see the ghost of his breath, and the fog of Fiorano’s snorts, but there was beauty everywhere. Water droplets hung frozen from the village well bucket and crystals drew the intricate patterns of nature in the puddles. Eskel spared no mind to the cold as he swung up into the saddle and rode north.

 

The snow started falling somewhere north of Ban Ard, but the ground wasn’t cold enough to hold it. Only once overnight did Eskel wake covered in a dusting of white power that melted away before he was done breaking camp. Once he made it into the foothills of the Blue Mountains though winter got serious and showed its teeth. The snow came down steadily, piling at Fiorano’s feet as the stallion picked his path up the rocky tree lines slopes. Eskel fed his horse an extra apple and whispered in his ear that they would be home soon.

 

The first sign that something was not right was the curl of smoke rising from the valley before the stronghold. While it wouldn’t have been unheard of in years past for Vesemir or the other witchers to send some younger recruit out to gather a short ways from the keep even during early or mid winter, there were no recruits left to send. There would never be new Wolves again. Certainly none of the remaining four witchers returning for the winter would stop to make camp with less than the valley’s distance to go; and well, outsiders didn’t just wander upon Kear Morhen. Its path was guarded with illusion, and known only to those of the wolf school and a strictly held few others. Eskel’s gut clenched. Had the mages come to finish what they had started. Where four Wolves really worth so much effort? It didn’t seem like they would have made their presence known so easily though. Even four witchers were a handful when they knew what was coming. The mages would have wanted surprise on their side surely?

 

The closer Eskel got to what was obviously going to be someone’s camp, the more dread he felt in the pit of his stomach. Fiorano steadied himself and leapt over a frozen stream, jostling Eskel in his saddle. Unnerved by the presence of a likely stranger in the valley Eskel moved his fingers to draw Quen around himself. But nothing happened. No spark. No shield of golden magic encased him. Eskel’s heart sank as realization dawned over him and he cringed. No. No, no, no!

 

Eskel had avoided this for years! He hadn’t been near Caingorn. Of course he had heard rumors of the Curse of the Black Sun affecting her, of it growing. Of how she said she could concentrate and know where he was. Eskel had never thought it was true though, never imagined she might have used it to locate the keep in the past. Let alone to come here, and now of all times. He knew of no one or nothing else that could dampen all the magic around it though, preventing even a simple Sign from being cast. Fiorano lumbered forward through the snow until the lone campfire came into sight.

Deidre sat wrapped in a thick wolf fur, on a downed log next to a single canvas tent. On one side of her sat two ferocious looking wolves, hunchbacked, with fur as black as ravens. Her blonde hair was cropped so short it skimmed her pale cheekbones, but her lips at least still held a childish pink hue. She was a grown woman now, not the babe in her mother’s belly she’d been when Eskel had started avoiding his terrible mistake.

 

“Eskel,” Deidre’s dulcet voice carried gently on the winter air shaking Eskel to his core.

“You can’t be here, you know that,” Eskel said dropping down from his horse despite the jitters trying to take hold of him, wanting to shake his limbs apart.

 

“Eskel, please! I have to be, you have to help me. My brother is trying to take everything from me. He-” she paused trying to compose herself, “-he’s hunting me, with a sorceress. The other witchers, they won’t let me into the keep. You have to tell them. Please!”

 

Eskel dug his fingers into his hair, pulling hard, trying to center himself. A low growl worked in his throat. “Deidre,” he started, “Witchers are neutral. We can’t just defend your titles, your land,” he tried to explain to her why she hadn’t been let inside. Why she never should have come.

 

“And what about my _life_ ,” her voice rose, anger seeping in, “I belong to you, with you, refusing to acknowledge me will not change that! You’d let this sorceress kill me, gut me open, investigate my body like some diseased dog?”

_Sweet Melitele. Why did she have to put it like that?_

 

“You don’t _belong_ to anyone. Least of all me. I didn’t take you with me because people deserve choices, not fates. But since you’re Hells bent on being here -taking my choices away from me- pack up your camp. All the witchers will make this decision, not me alone.” Eskel waited only to see that she had started packing up before he launched himself back up onto Fiorano and kicked him into a trot. He’d have to get to the keep and have time to explain this debacle to Vesemir and the other two before she arrived at the gate or this would end badly. The whole situation already sat sour in his stomach.

 

Inside the gates Eskel left Fiorano in the stable, still dragging his reins. Vesemir was already back, out in the courtyard planing boards to rebuild the burnt out armory with. Eskel pulled him to the side to explain the situation, knowing he wouldn’t be happy about it. The look of disappointment in Vesemir’s eyes was still worse than a slap to the head.

 

He’d already turned the girl away once, and now she was going to be coming inside the walls, a threat to their precious neutrality. Vesemir passed along that Geralt hadn’t come up the pass yet for winter but that Lambert was already back. He agreed with Eskel’s decision at least, that this was a choice that should be made as a group; which meant waiting for Geralt to return to the keep for winter before any decision could be made. All the more reason for Eskel to eagerly await his lover’s return.

 

It took less than two days before a new curl of smoke showed up in the valley below the keep. A quick scouting trip revealed that it was Deidre’s brother, Merwin Ademeyn. And just as Deidre had claimed he had a sorceress by his side, along with a small company of mercenaries. Eskel had no intention of talking to any of them. He wanted to keep his distance from the entire situation. If he had never foolishly spoken the words of the Law of Surprise all those years ago, none of this would have happened. He didn’t want to put himself in a position to further damage to anyone’s lives with his careless words. Also he was disquieted by the fact that Deidre’s brother felt the need to bring mercenaries and a sorceress with him to handle her. It made him queasy in a way that told him that her life might really be at stake.

 

Instead, he rode back to the keep. After taking a moment to inform the others of the updated situation and place Geralt’s gift in the usual spot on his bedside table, Eskel set off for the abandoned mine. Killing off the accumulated local kikimore population would help him forget the eddy of trouble surrounding him. Pulling him faster, deeper, farther into the icy depths than he could ever hope to escape. Eskel felt like he was suffocating, drowning, unable to see a way out.

 

It was there in the first enormous cavern of what had once been a mine supplying Kaer Morhen with iron, that Eskel heard Geralt’s gruff voice calling for him. Eskel was covered in bile yellow ichor, small chunks of chitin stuck here and there to his leather armor. He was sure he reeked of sweat, kikimore guts, and discontent. Geralt fell in right next to him without a word beyond his name, silver sword slicing the legs clean off of a worker. Eskel proceeded to torch it with Igni. Sword dancing in the dark cavern next to Geralt’s he didn’t need to talk to Geralt to know where he would strike next. They hacked and slashed there way to the back and Eskel’s hand poured fire over the eggs there.

 

“You doing alright?” the voice in Eskel’s ear was rough and genuine, the gloved hand on his sticky hip comforting.

“No.”

“Mhm,” Geralt stayed as close as the filth covering them allowed. “Wanna kill some more bugs?”

“Yup.”

 

They moved into the second cavern and began clearing it much the same way as the first. Dodging and weaving around each other in the dark with a violent grace all their own. Workers chittered at Eskel front and back. He drove his blade deep into the one in front of him, trusting Geralt to deal with the one at his back. Again the eggs melted away under their fingers.

 

“Gonna tell me about it at least?” Geralt sounded sincere, and Eskel felt a little bad he had never really confided in his lover about this before.

 

“Her name is Deidre,” Geralt nodded along silently despite Eskel being fairly certain Vesemir had already told him this much before telling him where Eskel was. “I hadn’t even been on The Path twenty summers when I saved some man’s life in Hengfors League. He looked like a noble and had been captured by bandits after scurvers spooked his horse. With no gold on him at the time I foolishly invoked the Law of Surprise, only to find out later that he was the Lord of Caingorn. When I returned him home safely he found out his wife was pregnant.” Eskel paused reflecting inward, “I couldn’t do to another child what was done to us Geralt. So I never returned,” Eskel stared intently at the burned kikimore eggs in the dim mine.

 

“Explains why you haven’t done a contract in Hengfors in nearly two decades,” there was understanding in Geralt’s voice. No judgment to be found there, only comfort. “But now she’s here.”

 

“They say she is cursed by the Black Sun. Magic doesn’t work around her, not even my Signs. It’s dangerous for her to be in the keep. Especially now when we are so few. Her brother and the sorceress with him, Sabrina, want her dead. Then he can inherit their father’s title, and Sabrina… gets an interesting case to dissect for research,” Eskel felt sick at his own words. He didn’t really wish death on his surprise child, only distance. Only to be left alone by Destiny and choose his own fate, for the girl to be able to do the same.

 

“And you don’t want to decide alone,” Geralt put the words in Eskel’s mouth but they were true, and comforting as crisp ale.

“No.I don’t.”

“Then we will all help you decide,” Geralt said as they made their way out of the old mine. “You don’t have to make the choice alone.” Eskel felt like the dead weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

 

“Come on, one more room,” Eskel said leading the way into the last chamber.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

There was a huddle of witchers in the courtyard when Eskel emerged from the keep again. Feeling cleaner and calmer he joined Vesemir, Lambert, and Geralt to hear them pass judgment on what would happen to his surprise child. Vesemir had already made his opinion known the first time he turned Deidre away at the gate. Neutrality was central to a witcher’s way of life, move one brick and the wall would start to crumble. Kaer Morhen was already badly damaged and the witcher’s reputations were all that remained for the Wolves to stand on.

 

Eskel had no idea where Lambert and Geralt stood yet. Ever bitter about having been a child of surprise himself, Lambert’s decision was hardest for Eskel to predict. He might feel as Eskel did that Fate was a cruel mistress and Deidre deserved a chance to cheat her; or he might just be an asshole like he was known to be and decide he didn’t know Deidre and she’d earned nothing from him. Eskel had a feeling Geralt leaned toward helping Deidre, regardless of the cost to the witcher code. Geralt claimed to dislike politics, nobles, and power struggles; but he disliked kicking the downtrodden even more. It was unlikely Geralt would willingly give up Deidre’s life and the situation made it pretty obvious that lacking their help she would be dead soon.

 

Entering the circle of witchers Eskel tried to stay at ease and tranquil, resisting the ebb of the cold deep waters swirling around him. Geralt put a casual hand on his shoulder. The firm grip helped Eskel center himself, he wanted to lean into it but wouldn’t allow himself that in front of the others.

 

“I know this isn’t something all of you wanted to be faced with first thing this winter,” Eskel sighed, “Or ever really. But I trust you all and this is not a decision I want to make alone. I’d like to know what you think should be done.”

 

“I think you should have handled this years ago,” Vesemir spoke up. “There’s no changing the past now though. We will see this through. Geralt, have you talked to everyone and come to a decision?” Vesemir looked expectantly towards their chosen voice of reason.

 

“I have. Eskel doesn’t wish to send Deidre to what seems to be her certain death. And neither do I.” Eskel schooled his face and looked over at Geralt. Did the other man really know him so well, so easily? It was more comforting than it had a right to be. He had avoided coming outright and stating his view, wanting there to be no taint on the other’s choices. Geralt seen right through it, known what Eskel thought even before Eskel himself was sure of it. “I think we would both regret it for years to come if we didn’t at least try to intervene. Lambert?” Geralt explained looking toward Lambert for his opinion.

 

“I don’t like Deidre one bit. Storming up here demanding we help her-” Eskel cringed inside, yeah he was going to be the asshole he was known to be. “-but what I like even less, is some pompous ass with a letter of conduct from Henselt who thinks that makes us his lap dogs. Kaer Morhen is neutral to kings, right? We make our own choices, no king will tell me what to do. I say we help her.”

 

Eskel had never wanted to hug Lambert since the angry kid had arrived in Kaer Morhen but the urge to do it grabbed him now. He knew it would only earn him a swift kick to his privates though, so he refrained. It was some seriously screwed up logic but it was very true to Lambert. He was still being an asshole, just to Merwin instead of Deidre. Eskel started paying attention again in time to hear Vesemir sigh.

 

“Alright it's settled then. I value our neutrality but if you all agree we should help the girl we will. How do we do that without bringing the wrath of Henselt down on the keep?” Vesemir put voice to the worries of all.

 

“I think the only answer is that she has to go to Merwin and offer to give up all her claims to her lands and titles. He inherits what he wants, in return she gets her life,” Geralt had clearly spent some time thinking of this solution. It wouldn’t make either sibling happy but it would work. Eskel’s shoulders unconsciously relaxed. This could be done.

 

“Come with me? We will tell her your plan together?” Eskel wanted Geralt’s support when he told Deidre what she needed to do.

“Of course,” Geralt walked side by side with him through the courtyard until they were at Deidre’s makeshift camp.

 

Tent set up in the corner of the courtyard, hunchbacked wolves at her side, she sat cross-legged on the ground. She stared into the fire she’d built in front of herself, warming her hands with it. “Come to tell me you're sending me to my death?” Voice as bitter as chicory, Deidre looked up without raising her head, glaring at them through her eyelashes.

“No,” Eskel replied flatly. Her anger would be the death of her someday but not today.

 

“We’ve come to tell you that we will help you,” Geralt kept his voice more hopeful than Eskel. “The three of us will go meet with your brother and offer him a deal. You will renounce you claims to land and title in return for being allowed to live freely.”

 

“That is a high price. My life worth it though. If that is the only option then I will do what must be done,” Deidre straightened herself up from the fire. Even standing she was a small woman. “Let us go and be done with this then.”

 

The camp was chock full of mercenaries with their blades, Sabrina stayed close to Merwin, and Merwin looked surprised to see them despite having demanded their presence for days. Geralt attempted to send Sabrina away, telling her they would address her in a moment as this didn’t concern her but she would not be swayed. Arguing and calling to Merwin that it was a trick. Pointing to Deidre as the cause of it all, as though she had unduly influenced the witchers into their stance. Eskel wanted to pull his hair again, but Geralt ignored her and began to lay out the terms to Merwin as if Sabrina weren’t ranting away off to their side.

 

Merwin seemed torn. Assurance that Deidre would give it all up, solidifying his claim, gave him what he wanted and yet Sabrina kept insisting it would not be enough. His head swiveled back and forth between Sabrina and Geralt as if it was on a string being tugged by an unseen force. All the while Deidre’s agitation grew with each turn back and forth. The more her brother doubted the truth of her offer, the angrier she got, and the angrier she appeared the more her brother doubted. Eskel could feel the situation spiraling out of control but felt helpless to do anything to halt it’s downward slide.

 

“Have her arrested!” Sabrina yelled at Merwin. “You can’t live in fear she’ll change her mind, or worse end up like Roben!”

 

“No!” Deidre rang out, “Roben’s misery was your doing. I won’t have the blame laid at my feet any longer. I will kill you, witch!” Deidre drew her sword, lashing at the nearest mercenary, cutting him down.

 

 _Shit! This is going to Hells and they will kill her for sure now._ Eskel reached out to grab Deidre, to drag her away from the camp while he still could, lest she follow through on her promise. Before his hand even connected with her, he saw the flash of steel in front of his eyes and felt a blinding heat on his face sending him down on his ass. Hard. Deidre was gone in a flash, chasing after Sabrina into her tent. Geralt gave him a heart-wrenching look as Eskel rolled over onto his stomach. His face felt like fire was crawling up the right side. Eskel wished he had a bucket of cool water to rest his head in. He heard Lambert approach at a run and Vesemir too. Vaguely, he registered Vesemir telling Geralt to go after Deidre into Sabrina’s tent as he lay writhing in agony on the ground. And then he passed out.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

When Eskel woke he was in his bed in his room, inside Kaer Morhen. His face felt too tight. It pulled and stretched in odd ways. Reaching up to investigate it with his fingers, they were greeted by the prickle of new stitches everywhere.

 

“Hey,” Geralt’s quiet voice drew Eskel’s attention to it where his head rested on the bed. “You’re awake.” Geralt took Eskel’s hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze. Geralt was sitting in a chair that had been pulled up along the bed, leaning over to rest his head next to Eskel. It was an awkward angle and Eskel could help but smile at how uncomfortable it must have been. Smiling tugged at his face in a strange painful way again and he frowned immediately.

 

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Panic edged into Eskel’s voice.

 

Forming the words was more difficult than it should be. He tried to sit up only to be held down by a forceful steady hand on his chest. Geralt moved from the chair to the bed, curling up next to Eskel, sliding an arm under Eskel’s head to pull it up against his chest. Chapped lips brushed Eskel’s forehead and he could feel Geralt shudder and shake around him with each exhale. Eskel turned his head into Geralt’s chest, taking comfort in the cool linen covering it, the weight of his heavy wolf medallion laying against Eskel. The calming scents of blade oil and leather washing over him, tinged lightly with sweat damp fear. Was it that bad?

 

“Geralt?” his name sounded garbled to Eskel’s ears when it came out of his mouth.

 

“Hey,” Geralt repeated himself in that same quiet voice that betrayed so much of his emotions it hurt Eskel almost as much as his face. “It’s over. They’re all gone.”

 

“And Deidre?” Eskel wished he didn’t sound as panicky as he did but he didn’t want the girl dead. She had injured him though and he feared what the others had done after that.

 

“She’s gone, went home with Merwin. Sabrina fled,” Geralt’s voice was heavy now. “Deidre did kill a few mercenaries before I could stop her, and she did this-” Geralt ran his hand very lightly over the lines of stitching on the right side of Eskel’s face “-but-” Geralt hesitated, “-I don’t think she meant to. She was startled when you reached for her and she lost control. There is something different about her, my medallion went crazy. Even your wounds… I know her blade cut you deeply, but there is something magical to them too.” Geralt kissed his forehead again, sighing with frustration, “Vesemir, Lambert, and I did everything we could, but they are still healing slowly.”

 

Eskel groaned burying his face as deep in the crook of Geralt’s chest and arm as he could without disturbing the injured side. Geralt responded by sliding his other arm around Eskel and holding him tightly. Soft kisses littered his forehead, and Eskel said nothing when he smelled the salt of Geralt’s tears in the air. Instead he only wormed his leg up and in between Geralt’s, hooking his lower leg around Geralt’s calf and drawing him even closer.

 

“Stay wifth me?” Eskel wouldn’t beg, but he would ask, he _could_ ask Geralt.

“Wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else right now,” Geralt answered him softly. “Rest, I’ll still be here when you wake up. I promise.”

 

Eskel was still restless though and Geralt distracted him by talking about his summer on the Path. Recounting his contracts both big and small. Small bogs full of waterhags and barghests. A misunderstood troll he had helped prevent from being ran out of its home.

Geralt told Eskel of his journey back that fall too. That wasn’t a pleasant tale. Bandits had attacked him twice and Roach had been killed in the last attack. He’d made the rest of the journey on foot. Geralt might never say it out loud but Eskel knew the loss of his horse stung. Roach had been special to him and Eskel snuggled closer wanting to soothe him. Eventually he fell back asleep.

 

Eskel’s sleep was fitful. Tossing and turning, moaning at the slightest movement next to him. Then Geralt’s hand would settle onto his chest or hip and he would ease back under the blanket of rest. True to his word, Geralt was right next to him when Eskel woke up hours later. Hells maybe it had even been a whole day, Eskel wasn’t sure. Slipping his fingers into Geralt’s hair and leaning over Eskel kissed his lips, only to hiss in pain.

 

“Ow fuck!” Eskel reared his head back like he’d been bitten.

“Hey, take it easy there,” Geralt chided him with an easy smile. “Not that I don’t want your kisses, but I don’t want you hurting yourself either.” Geralt put a hand behind Eskel’s head and held him steady as he ever so gently let his lips touch Eskel’s mouth, barely there then gone. “Hungry?”

 

Eskel groaned with disappointment, he was hungry for another kiss. A real kiss. “I wanna see my face.”

 

“Eat first? Please,” the pleading edge in Geralt’s voice got to him.

“Alright. How’m I supposed’a eat like this?” Eskel sat up on the edge of the bed facing away from Geralt.

“I’ll help you if you need me to.”

 

“You ‘ill not. I can feed m’self,” Eskel rolled his eyes. He could barely talk, let alone eat real food. This was going to be an ordeal in humiliation he could already tell. He only hoped Lambert was far away.

“You stay here, I’ll bring you some porridge,” Geralt had come up behind him on the bed and was kissing down the back of his neck and Eskel had to admit it was soothing.

 

“Huh? So w’en I drool on m’self, no one but you sees?” Bitter sarcasm seeped into Eskel’s voice.

 

“Exactly,” Geralt squeezed him in a hug before heading to the door, “Because we both know Lambert’s an ass. He’d never let you live it down.” Eskel harrumphed at the thought, scooting up to lean against the headboard as he waited for Geralt to return.

 

The porridge Geralt brought back was loaded with walnuts and maple syrup. Sugary and sweet. Eskel managed to get the food to his mouth just fine with the spoon, but chewing was a new adventure in pain. Taking his time and eating slowly he succeeded in eating the entire bowl. Once he’d started Eskel realized he was ravenous. Geralt had also brought him a mug of Kaedweni Stout. That was more difficult. Where the mug touched his mouth he could tell there was a ragged edge that didn’t form a seal, and the alcohol stung enough to make his eyes water as he drank. But the beer washed away the day old dryness in his mouth. So he kept at it, even when it dribbled down his chin. Geralt wouldn’t comment.

 

Afterward at Eskel’s insistence Geralt retrieved his shaving mirror so he could inspect his face. Before he handed it over Geralt had softly kissed his lips again, careful of the stitches there, ghosting over them. Kissed his nose. Then his forehead.

“Remember, Eskel, nothing changes,” Geralt told him, voice low and chock full of worry. “I love you just like you are.”

 

Eskel’s breath caught in his throat at that admission. Geralt had never said anything like that before. “I- I,” Eskel struggled to come up with the proper response.

 

“No. You don’t need to say anything. That’s not what this is about,” Geralt assured him, “I just- I needed you to know.”

 

That scared Eskel. Why did Geralt feel like he needed Eskel to know that now, when he’d never felt the need to tell him before? Eskel had felt loved, sure, but never heard Geralt say it. Geralt handed him the mirror and Eskel was afraid to look for the first time since he woke up. He had to though.

 

It was terrible. Two jagged red lines tracked down and across from his right temple, one crossed over his eyebrow. On his lower cheek they split further like lightning in the summer sky, spreading over the side of his mouth, cutting his lip in half. Each red track was tightly held together by a patchwork of stitches. Dark black silk strings contrasting violently with the raw wounds and his olive skin. His upper lip didn’t quite line up right where it was stitched back together, like there was a piece forever missing. No wonder he couldn’t fucking talk. Eskel set the mirror aside knocking his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

Eskel felt Geralt crawl into his lap. He hadn’t bothered to open his eyes yet when dry chapped lips covered the uninjured corner of his mouth. Mouth compassionate, and seeking, Geralt’s hand joined in cupping his jaw below his stitches, ever mindful of his injury. Even with all Geralt’s tenderness it still made his face ache. Eskel couldn’t quite bring himself to respond. The tameness of it all, reeked of sympathy to him.

 

Grabbing Geralt’s wrist to pull his hand away Eskel opened his eyes and glared, “I don’ want your pity.”

 

“Who said anything about pity?” Geralt cocked his head at Eskel with a smirk, “I want to know you’re still in there, still you. That you aren’t giving up on yourself. I want to touch and be touched by _my_ Eskel.”

 

“I feel like shit,” Eskel said flatly. “I look worse than shit, and you want me to fuck you?” He released his hold on Geralt’s wrist. “Why?” Eskel closed his eyes again not sure if he was ready for that answer after the question had already left his mouth. Strong hands gripped his thighs, spreading them apart, squeezing roughly.

 

“Because then I’ll know you’re alive. You could have died on me, and that terrifies me,” Geralt admitted.

“Fuck’it’all, Geralt! I’ma grown man, you don’t hafta worry about me,” Eskel’s own words confused him- because he knew he worried about Geralt too-he just couldn’t put it into words through his rage at the moment.

 

“Then show me.” Geralt leaned in and sucked a deep purple bruise into Eskel’s neck, “Prove that you’re going to survive this and be alright.”

 

“You’re wearin’ too many clothes for me to fuck. Get naked.” Eskel ordered pushing Geralt off of him. All of a sudden he could see the merit in Geralt’s desire. He didn’t want to be pitied but he did want to feel alive. Fucking Geralt would definetly rouse that feeling in him, and Geralt could take it, wanted it even.

 

Eskel undid his braies pushing them down and off. Pulling his shirt over his head, trying not to catch his stitches, and wincing when he did anyway. His cock laid soft between his legs, but Geralt’s mouth could remedy that quickly. Eskel watched hungrily as Geralt did as he was told, stripping off his tunic, dropping his trousers and braies hurriedly to the floor.

 

Where Geralt stood at the foot of the bed gave Eskel a good view to admire his naked body, wearing only his medallion, scars standing out in all their glory. Each one a story of pain and triumph that Eskel knew well. Geralt’s cock stood proud too, hard and long, waiting to be touched.

 

“C’mere,” Eskel beckoned Geralt back into his bed.

Geralt crawled up on all fours, medallion swaying from his neck with the movement. Opening his legs in invitation, Eskel played idly with his cock, watching as Geralt moved toward him. Geralt bent down, ass in the air, to take it in his mouth, and Eskel moaned lewdly at the sight. He fisted one hand in Geralt’s ponytail, while the other marked red trails up and down Geralt’s arched back with his fingernails. Vibrations surrounded his cock when Geralt groaned and arched his back further into Eskel’s nails. It felt unspeakably good, but it wasn’t making him hard. Geralt’s tongue worked him expertly, running up the underside, licking at the head, flicking none too gently over his slit, and Eskel hissed at all the sensations flooding him.

 

The red lines on Geralt’s back looked beautiful, and the more Eskel scratched the more moans rumbled from Geralt’s chest, rolling up Geralt’s throat and spreading through Eskel’s cock into his groin. The hand that was fisted in Geralt’s hair sought out his nipple instead. Eskel gave it a hard squeeze and Geralt fell still around his cock. Repeating the squeeze Eskel rolled the stiff nub between his thumb and forefinger, worrying it with his thumbnail.

 

Mouth falling open, Geralt laid caught in a silent whimper against Eskel’s groin. Eskel’s soft cock had fallen from his lips, a string of saliva still connecting the two. Geralt’s eyes were glassy eyes betrayed not a care as how wanton he looked. Eskel’s cock twitched at the sight of his lover, lost in his own mind with pleasure or pain—maybe both—in his lap, and he wanted to see more of it. Wanted to drag it out of Geralt. Trading hands he worried the other nipple into a hard nub too, scratching the other side of Geralt’s back red with his other hand, leaving a new set of trails. Geralt shuddered under him and Eskel couldn’t stand it anymore.

 

His cock wasn’t going to cooperate. Traitorous thing. But Geralt looked so needy, so completely helpless under Eskel’s hands that he needed to do _something_ about it. Pushing Geralt over, Eskel dumped him on his back causing him to blink blearily in confusion. Pressing on, Eskel spread Geralt’s legs wide. Feasting his eyes on Geralt’s cock, long, strong, and leaking wetness, Eskel wished he could take it in his mouth and taste it. He couldn’t—not now—not for a while and that realization only angered him further. Instead he wrapped his fingers around it, squeezing it just shy of too tight, causing Geralt to jerk and draw in a ragged gasp. Working his hand quickly, he brought Geralt right up to the edge, never breaking eye contact.

 

“Please, oh Gods,” Geralt begged.

Eskel took Geralt’s balls in his other hand, fondling them. Circling around the base and drawing them away from Geralt’s body to stall his impending orgasm. Geralt whined and squirmed under him, begging louder. Just when Eskel was sure it was too much for Geralt he stopped, withdrawing all his touches.

 

“NO!” Geralt was panting, “Gods Damn it, why did you stop?”

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” Eskel sat back on his heels and reached into the drawer, searching for a certain oil. The green one.

“I did but…” Geralt seemed to be trying to come up with a polite way around this, “if that’s not going to happen, I didn’t want to be left hanging either.”

 

The smell of mint filled the air as Eskel coated his fingers, smirk cut in half by his torn lip, “Who said I could only fuck you senseless with my cock?”

 

Geralt sucked in a breath at the first touch of cold mint against his puckered hole, grabbing onto the blankets for something to hold onto. Eskel stole Geralt’s wrists with his free hand and held them together over his own stomach though.

 

“You wanted this. You asked for it. You will keep your hands here and enjoy it,” Eskel growled hotly as he slipped a finger inside Geralt.

“Of Fuck. Yes, Eskel,” Geralt’s voice was gone with lust and it drove Eskel further on.

 

Fucking one finger in and out, Eskel added another all too quickly making Geralt gasp at the stretch. It was smooth and hot inside Geralt, and Eskel still wished it was his cock feeling it instead of his fingers. An idea formed in Eskel’s head. The oil tingled coldly on his fingers like ice. He was still a witcher. Far more skilled at signs than Geralt or any other witcher he had known. A third finger joined the other two and Geralt bucked under him trying to roll his hips back onto Eskel’s hand.

 

Using his fingers Eskel brushed over Geralt’s sweet spot, watching him jump under his touch. Again and again until Geralt’s cock leaked freely on his belly below where Eskel held his wrists. When Geralt was completely taken by his pleasure Eskel pressed his pinky finger against Geralt’s stretched furl. Breath hitching at the intrusion Geralt pushed back against him, letting Eskel slip his last finger in.

 

“Sh- Shit. Uhgn,” Breathing heaving and rapid, Geralt’s body pulsed around Eskel’s hand, sunk into him up to the knuckles. Carefully moving his fingers Eskel started to Sign. Geralt’s body shook with tremors under Eskel’s hold as the Igni heated him inside, warming his prostate, then stopped, retreating to let the icy tingle of the mint take over again. Eskel was mindful never to conjure a flame, only wave after wave of warmth, sending it flowing through Geralt’s most tender places until he was shaking apart. Until he felt the warmth of Geralt’s cum splatter his hand where he’d pinned Geralt’s wrists. Only then did he let up, let go of Geralt and gently ease his fingers out of his lover. Pulling a blanket over them and huddling together with their heads at the foot of the bed.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

Eskel woke up hours later, uncomfortable and painfully stuck to Geralt. Fuck. He hoped Geralt was pissed at him. Burying his hands in Geralt’s hair, the ponytail long since lost, Eskel threaded his fingers in it, toying with it idly. He wanted to kiss Geralt softly. Wake him up and apologize for being such and asshole, for being so rough. Not that it hadn’t been invited, but maybe the timing should have been better. Eskel let out a loose breath.

 

That seemed to rouse Geralt from his slumber. He tried to hug Eskel closer to him and Eskel let himself be hugged. Eskel’s fingers explored Geralt’s back, pleased to find that the scratches he’d made there were already healed and gone. As much as he’d liked looking at them in the moment he wasn’t so sure he wanted to see them after the fact. Geralt made a soft noise against his chest and Eskel talked quietly to him.

 

“’S middle of the night,” Eskel told him, “we should prolly turn around in the bed an’ sleep.”

“Mhmm, need a bath though,” Geralt mumbled back, “Or at least a wash. I’m gross.”

 

Eskel couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was true. He would have thought they were long past the days of falling asleep covered in cum, apparently he was wrong. Over fifty and acting like hormone raging boys.

“Wanna sneak down to the bathing room?” Eskel asked half joking.

 

“No,” Geralt grumbled into his chest, “You made the mess, you clean it up.”

Eskel tried to raise his eyebrows at that, only to find it made his face sear with pain. Still he had pushed Geralt so much and he owed him. “Alright, lemme up,” Eskel shifted out from Geralt’s embrace and left with a bowl in search of clean water.

 

A short while later he returned with warm water and a cloth. Using as much tenderness now as he had used roughness earlier he cleaned the dried cum from Geralt’s stomach. He washed Geralt’s cock and balls, finally running the cloth around the rim of his hole.

 

“Are you sore?” Eskel was genuinely concerned, he hadn’t been as careful as he could have been stretching Geralt so far, and that oil was intense for such a tender area

“A little, I’ll heal fast enough though,” Seeing the concern on Eskel’s face Geralt added, “I wanted what I got.”

 

Eskel let it go. It wasn’t something he wanted to look too deeply at right now. His own reaction to Geralt needy and wanting something like that had been something he’d never expected.

 

“C’mon, let’s get into bed,” Eskel pulled the blanket up holding one side up for Geralt to join him. Once Geralt was comfortably nestled in his arms Eskel took a deep breath. “’M sorry,” he said, “It was wrong of me to yell at you. I worry ‘bout you too. Every year. We go out on The Path an’ I worry sumthin’ will happen to you an’ I won’t even get to say goodbye. It’s got nothin’ to do with whether or not we’re good enough. It’s just ‘cause I love you.” Eskel let the good side of his face rest against Geralt’s cheek. “And I’m scared of losin’ what I love. Do you think that’s strange?”

 

Geralt’s breath was hot trapped against Eskel’s neck, “No, I don’t think it is. It’s alright to be angry too. You did everything you could for Deidre, and it didn’t end well. Sometimes there is no right answer.”

 

“Mmm, Fate is a fickle bitch,” Eskel closed his eyes, concentrating on the sound of Geralt’s breathing, like waves rolling in and out on the ocean coast, until he drifted off to sleep.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

It came as no surprise to Eskel a few days later when he finally padded down to the kitchen for his own porridge, confident at last that he wouldn’t dribble food and ale down his face in front of Lambert, that Vesemir was waiting with a concerned look. He dutifully ignored it while he dishes himself up and took a seat next to Geralt. After his first gingerly swallowed bite he looked at Vesemir and addressed the old man.

 

“Yes?” Eskel prodded, knowing full well what was bothering the old man. For years Geralt and he had been quiet, careful and made a point of sneaking into the other’s room for the night after all the others had gone to bed. Now with all the turmoil of late they had just stopped caring.

 

“Lambert and I, have come to the conclusion that with so few of us left,” Vesemir was clearly working hard to keep his face schooled, “that there is no reason we shouldn’t each be able to take a large room in the towers. He suggested that the two of you could each take a room in the east tower and we would take rooms in the west tower. After the last two days, I find myself agreeing.”

 

Eskel thought he saw Vesemir’s eyelid twitch and he burst out laughing. Geralt merely stared into his cider as if it had personally insulted him.

“Do we get our own tubs in these rooms?” Eskel batted back, proud that his words came out sounding almost normal.

“Absolutely.”

 

“Well then why not. I am sure you’ll enjoy the peace and quiet of your own tower with Lambert,” Eskel was still trying to smile at the thought of all they had overheard in the past few days. It came out more of a half smirk. He’d made Geralt scream his name more than once.

Lambert walked in from main hall, “Thank fuck, I’ll help you move your shit.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I *know* its been a rough few chapters for the Eskel... but I swear upon Eskel's pinky finger that the next chapter is so fluffy your gonna die.  
> Well maybe not that fluffy, but there is cuddling and gardening, so its pretty fluffy after all this!!  
> ~BBean


	13. Just the Blue Mountains and You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt along with his few truly prized possessions—a rotation of books, his clothes, the swords and armor he wore daily—had made a home in Eskel’s room. And Gods Eskel was glad to have him there. Constantly amazed that Geralt wanted to be there. But for as long as he did, Eskel would make room in his heart, bedroom, and closet for Geralt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always a shout out to my lovely beta [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion). Check out their orks Duncan and Rhys and their adventures in Shadowrun (they even have an amazing witcher smut too!)
> 
> Here is the promised fluffiness and cotton candy. The boys can relax for a while now.

A year and half ago after Vesemir’s suggestion Eskel had taken the second floor of the east tower as his own room, and Geralt the top floor. It was no secret however that Geralt never made use of his room. It held a wealth of assorted armor, old weapons, a veritable library of collected books, miscellaneous trophies and other odd and ends gathered over four decades on The Path but it did not hold Geralt. 

 

Geralt along with his few truly prized possessions — a rotation of books, his clothes, the swords and armor he wore daily — had made a home in Eskel’s room. And Gods Eskel was glad to have him there. Constantly amazed that Geralt wanted to be there. But for as long as he did, Eskel would make room in his heart, bedroom, and closet for Geralt.

 

By the spring of 1234 the ragged lines running roughshod down the right side of Eskel’s face had long since closed up and healed together. Yet the scars there remained shiny and pink as new, belying the true age of the injury. Deidre’s magic had slowed the process of healing beyond that of even a regular human. Even using witcher potions and all their accumulated knowledge the Wolves had barely been able to have Eskel in fighting form before the previous spring. He would never admit it to anyone except Geralt, but he had not pushed himself as hard as usual over the previous summer on the Path.

 

Now, he was intent on getting back to his old ways. Even if he didn’t know for sure if he’d ever feel as confident looking people in the face. Vesemir had decided that he wanted to follow the path again for a while. Kaer Morhen had no recruits for him to train anymore, never would again, and Eskel saw no reason to stop the old man from following his own Path.

 

The garden would need a spring planting, but could be left to grow unattended if they each stopped by once to check on it during the summer. The livestock of Kaer Morhen were no longer much to speak of. Little was needed with so few. They could turn out the two cows and myriad of chickens they had left into surrounding fields and hope for the best come fall.

 

With all that going on both he and Geralt offered to remain behind a bit later into the spring to get the garden on its feet before taking off on their own Paths. Vesemir had been grateful for the reprieve. Geralt had kept his excitement at a few extra weeks in a quiet Kaer Morhen with no one but Eskel well hidden. Eskel on the other hand… had walked around grinning like a lopsided cat. Lambert rode out as soon as the snows stopped, bitching about not being able to handle them any longer. 

For all his gruffness  Lambert did give Eskel a half-gallon stoneware jug of his infamous home-brewed potato moonshine as a farewell for summer and thanks-for-watching-the-keep gift on his way out the huge wooden doors.

 

Eskel thanked him with a small half smile. He wanted to give the Lambert a hug or a pat on the back, tell him to be safe, but he thought better of it. Instead Eskel ended up laughing at him when Lambert told him the best thanks would be to keep the noise down next winter and walked away with an eye roll.

 

A few weeks after Lambert’s departure Vesemir was riding off from Kaer Morhen for the first full summer since before Eskel could remember. It was bittersweet. Sad that the School of the Wolf had fallen down so far, and yet a breath of fresh air to see Vesemir regaining a bit of his freedom from a grueling life of training recruits, the majority of which would never even survive their Trials into their teenage years. 

 

Eskel was not sad to see that particular ritual go away; he wasn’t even sure there were enough contracts to warrant the creation of new witchers at such a high price. As civilization ground on monsters were less and less common. Nilfgaard was said to be so organized and proper that they had no need of witchers at all. Men like him were almost a myth in the Empire.

 

With the keep clear of everyone else Eskel set his mind to enjoying his precious time alone with Geralt. There was a list in his mind of things he wanted to accomplish around the keep while the weather was warm enough before they left; and another no less important list in his head of places around the keep he wanted to make Geralt lose himself while no one was watching. There was no rush, no one would disturb them, and Melitele curse them if they did suddenly back for some item they forgot.

 

The first morning alone with Geralt in the keep Eskel woke pleasantly warm. He was sprawled out on the large double bed they now shared, an infinite improvement after years of trying to jockey around two large men in one small bed. 

 

Despite the blanket having been kicked off in the night heat was radiating off of Geralt, who was half blanketing him; one arm and leg thrown over Eskel’s body. Geralt’s chest rested partially over his own, rising and falling with each tranquil breath. Spring was still chilly and Geralt’s warmth seeped into Eskel’s bones, soothing his muscles and his mind. He was loathe to move, not wanting to disturb Geralt. Instead he kept his eyes closed and savored the rare peace of the moment breathing in deeply the oily, salty, sweaty scent of Geralt’s body from the previous night’s sex. Eskel’s fingers traced down Geralt’s spine lightly, saying good morning to every bump and dip, drawing a lazy circle with his fingertip right above the beginning of the cleft of his lovers ass.

  
  


Geralt’s breath hitched in his sleep. Eskel did it again just to see if he could hear Geralt’s breath falter once more under his touch. A barely audible moan rewarded Eskel. He let his fingertips play over the swell of Geralt’s ass, drawing tiny inconsequential patterns first over the rise of one cheek, then the other. Uneven breaths and the occasional low moan punctuated each movement of Eskel’s hand. A smile played across his face, tugging at his scarred lip in a familiar way.

  
  


On hand cupping the cheek of Geralt’s ass, Eskel threaded his fingers in the loose strands of his white hair and tilted Geralt’s head up to meet him for a kiss. Languid, undemanding, and indulgent. Eskel took the time to enjoy every bit of it—the barest hint of last night’s ale on Geralt’s tongue, the prickle of day old stubble around his lips—letting all his senses hone in on the lazy way Geralt had started kissing him back. Geralt finally retreated nuzzling his face into the side of Eskel’s neck.

  
  


“Good morning,” Eskel’s crooked smile had returned.

“Mmhm,” Geralt mumbled into his neck, “it’d be better with a mug of hot cider.”

“Gods, you’re needy,” Eskel gave his ass a light squeeze.

“You want me anyway,” Geralt’s voice was still muffled against Eskel’s skin, but Eskel could feel the smile on his lips as he said it.

“Probably,” Eskel conceded giving Geralt a tiny push. “Lemme up old man. Find yourself some clothes and I’ll make us some hot cider.”

  
  


Eskel disentangled himself from the pile of Geralt’s limbs and scrounged through the closet for a clean pair of good cotton braies. Out of habit more than need he pulled his leathers on over them before heading out the door. Lightfooted on the stairs, Eskel hustled around the spiral down directly into the kitchen. 

  
  


Rummaging around he found a few remaining eggs and a wedge of cheese. The fire in the massive grate between the kitchen and the great hall whooshed to life with his Igni. Filling a dutch oven with water from the barrel stored nearby, Eskel set it on the hook of the iron arm that swiveled out from the side of the fire grate. He set the eggs into it and pushed it into the fire. While he waited for their eggs to boil he poured two mugs of cold cider which he quickly heated to steaming with his fingers and swish of Igni. They tasted sweet and spicy when he sucked them into his mouth to wash away the slightly sticky residue. He ran his tongue over and around each one, licking them completely clean until all he could taste was his own skin. A sizzle of arousal wrapped itself around his gut and squeezed. Gods, he wanted Geralt in his mouth now and he hadn’t even taken care of his other needs yet this morning. He pulled his fingers out with minute pop.

  
  


The water had barely started to boil. Eskel left it to take care of the eggs alone while he quickly ran outside to relieve himself. No one was around to notice which meant he wasn’t going to bother going all the way to the outhouses. Five steps out the door got him far enough that he could aim past the stone walk and that was all he cared about. The sun was bright in his eyes, but taking a piss after last nights romp and a full nights sleep felt too good for him to be bothered by it, so he closed his eyes, ignoring it.

  
  


Back in the kitchen Eskel used a long hook to pull the iron arm back out of the fire grate, fished the eggs out with a ladle and left them on the slab table to cool next to the cheese. Eskel slipped the fingers of one hand through the handles of both tankards of hot cider and headed through the door at the back of the kitchen. He climbed the stairs slower than he had descended them, careful not to spill. On the second floor he pushed open the door to his room, looking at the now empty bed he glanced around to find Geralt. A shadow thrown from the open balcony doors told Eskel where he was.

  
  


Coming up behind Geralt, Eskel slid his unoccupied arm low around Geralt’s waist. Fitting his hand between the loose linen tunic and those luxurious pine green silk braies he had bought Geralt a few summers ago Eskel rubbed his thumb over Geralt’s hip. Cider mugs still gripped in his hand and held out to their side Eskel buried his nose in Geralt’s hair. He hadn’t pulled it up into its customary half ponytail yet and Eskel was taking advantage. 

 

Eskel felt the cider get lighter as Geralt lifted the mugs from his hand. He let Geralt take them both, heard the thunk of one being set on the stone railing, felt Geralt’s neck muscles working in front of his face as he swallowed the first drinks of his own. Eskel stayed, mesmerized by the way it felt. Then Geralt rearranged, pulling his hair to one side away from Eskel’s face. For a moment Eskel was disappointed, until he saw the back of Geralt’s neck, exposed and open to his mouth.

 

Placing his lips at the base of Geralt’s skull Eskel listened to the deep exhale of Geralt’s breath, the way it turned into a groan at the end, when he set his teeth lightly against the tendons there. Never actually biting, he nibbled his way skillfully down to the base of Geralt’s neck, then moved to the side, sucking a dark mulberry mark into the pale skin there.

 

Geralt’s voice was hoarse when he spoke up, “I’ve always loved this view of the mountains.”

“Yea?” Eskel teased. He started to work open the ties on Geralt’s braies. “What do you love about it?” Eskel pushed the smooth silk down just far enough to tuck it under Geralt’s balls.

 

Geralt’s chest froze, air stuck in his lungs, when Eskel cupped his cock and balls maneuvering it around his braies. “The Blue Mountains are-” Eskel ducked under his arm and came up in front of Geralt stealing a quick kiss before dropping to his knees between Geralt and the world, “-are massive,” Geralt stuttered.

 

“Mmhm,” Eskel hummed against Geralt’s hip. He sucked a dark mark on the ivory skin there making Geralt gasp out loud. “I want you to keep looking at those mountains you love and tell me about them until I am done with you.” Eskel licked a messy swath across Geralt’s balls, up his rapidly hardening cock, playing his tongue over the tip.

 

Geralt hissed as he drew in a fast breath, “Fuck.”

There was another distinct thunk behind Eskel’s head, this one sloshing, as Geralt’s tankard landed hard on the stone railing. Eskel gripped Geralt’s hip hard with one hand, holding him steady, while he held the base of Geralt’s cock circled in the fingers of his other. Geralt’s cock was warm and slightly salty in his mouth, twitching rapidly on his tongue. Eskel closed his own eyes and moaned at the feeling.

 

“The sky there is always steel gray when it rains,” Geralt began again, breathy. “Cornflower blue when-” Eskel let Geralt’s rough voice wash over him, pulling back, flattening his tongue to lick under the head. Pressing the tip of his tongue hard against Geralt’s slit to hear him groan, to feel him jerk resting on Eskel’s tongue. 

 

After a few shaky breaths Geralt continued on, “-blue when the sun is out.” Eskel buried Geralt’s cock in his throat, working his muscles around it, blissed out in the moment. Nose pressed against Geralt, Geralt’s labored breathing and quick heartbeat pattering in his ears. Pulling all the way off after several long moments Eskel licked from base to tip.

“Yea?” Eskel waited.

 

Leaning forward to place both hands on the rail and steady himself Geralt soldiered on, “The mountains themselves, are like sleep-” Eskel swallowed Geralt to the root again, starting up a lazy rhythm, “-ing. Gods Eskel. Sleeping giants. Solid, massive, and immovable. They…” Geralt paused, and Eskel felt a shudder roll through his body, “…make me…feel so small.” Eskel rewarded Geralt’s concentration by speeding up his pace a fraction, his hand dropping to roll Geralt’s tightening balls. “I… I feel so insignificant and-” cock buried in his throat again Eskel held his breath there swallowing around Geralt again, making small noises he was unable to contain, “-fuck Eskel. I am gonna cum. Please!”

 

Pulling off one last time Eskel stroked Geralt’s cock keeping a moderate pace, twisting his wrist, making Geralt shake as he came. Warm cum landing in streak on Eskel’s still bare chest.

 

“Oh. Fuck. Oh fuck. Gods.” Geralt cursed. Then he was laughing, and trying to catch his breath looking down at Eskel with awe in his eyes, “That was fucking amazing.” Eskel was busy licking every last bit of Geralt clean, balls to tip, sucking him dry as Geralt shivered from over-stimulation. Tucking Geralt back into his soft silk braies elicited a sweet gasp, sensitive cock head brushing the fabric. Eskel tied the brown cords securing them at the front of Geralt’s hips and stood up. Geralt groaned loudly, “You’re a mess,” he said gesturing to where his eyes were fixed on Eskel’s chest.

 

Drawing two fingers through the trails on his chest Eskel brought them slowly up to his mouth. Geralt’s eyes followed his hand as if held to it by magic. “Yea, I am,” Eskel stated matter-of-factly, quirking one eyebrow. 

 

The sound of Eskel’s voice commanded Geralt’s attention up to his eyes. Eskel held his gaze and licked his fingers clean, “But maybe I like that,” Eskel said, the quirk of his eyebrow spread across his face into a haphazard grin as he pushed past Geralt to go inside and clean up.

  
  


~~~~~

  
  


The eggs had long since cooled, along with Eskel’s cider, by the time they made it downstairs to the kitchen. Geralt reheated Eskel’s mug while he divided the cheese. They split the eggs and peeled their own, siting right there at the kitchen table to eat. 

 

It would be at least another week before they could reliably sow the seeds in the garden but they planned to get straight to work on the soil. It needed to be turned up, have some of the older manure and chicken shit piled out back of the sheds worked in, and some rotting hay could be laid on top to speed up the heating of the ground. Also Eskel wanted to work relaying the stone foundation of the old stable while the weather was warm enough to cure the grout.

 

They set out after breakfast to the garden inside the keep’s west walls. It was sweaty work even with the cool spring breeze, and Eskel had soon ditched his chest armor and tunic again. Geralt’s followed not far behind. They shoveled and turned the earth with furious efficiency. Years past there had been a bigger garden outside the walls and a plow for the younger recruits to use. Now it was just the two of them and their shovels. They took their anger at the situation out on the ground below their feet and it felt good to let it out. 

 

Eskel left and returned with a handcart loaded down with part old cow manure and part of the chicken shit cleaned from the coop over the last year. They spread it out over the ground and worked it in. Geralt left and came back hauling two cart loads of old hay, gone moldy and black, hot in the center. They spread that over the top and left it. Eskel’s stomach rumbled, alerting him to the fact that it was well past lunch, almost to an early dinner. Geralt offered to visit the pond and see if he could catch some fresh trout and Eskel was not one to pass up the chance to eat something fresh after a winter of dried food.

 

While Geralt fished Eskel headed inside and thought ahead. Without Vesemir here they needed to plan to feed themselves for a few weeks more. Geralt would hunt and fish, or he could, but there was no sense in them traveling out of the mountains for other food to go with that. They had just grown used to Vesemir handling it. 

 

Eskel checked the bins and barrels until he found the ground wheat, scooping out a good sized pile onto the table he made a dent in the middle. All the eggs had gone to breakfast he realized, so he headed out to check the grounds for more. 

 

After twenty minutes of hide-and-go-egg-seek he had almost a dozen new eggs to work with and went back to the kitchen with them. Cracking two into the dent in his flour, he added a few pinches of salt, and a dribble of sticky molasses. Eskel scooped a tankard through the water barrel filling it halfway, heating it to lukewarm, before topping it off from the keg of Kaedweni Stout. Pouring a bit into the center of his dent he began rapidly filling it in with flour and pushing the middle down to refill it again. Soon he was kneading a respectable sized mound of dough and rather proud of himself. Once he was satisfied with it he left the dark brown loaf to sit on the table and rise.

 

Geralt arrived with the fish while Eskel was sorting through the rubble looking for the most salvageable stones to use rebuilding old the stable. While Geralt worked preparing the fish Eskel got his dough ready and into the cast iron pot. Lid in place he used the long handled spade to scoop some coals onto the top and the hook to place the pot just right in the fire, not too hot, but just hot enough to bake. 

 

Next Eskel busied himself boiling some pearled barley to go with it. They worked in a peaceful silence, only the sounds of the fish crackling as it fried in the pan with the oil and some pine nuts flowed through the kitchen.

 

It was not only filling but tasted damn good too. Vesemir would have been proud if he were there, but then if Vesemir were there they wouldn’t have been cooking, he would have. By the time they finished eating Geralt’s catch over a bowl of steaming hot barley the bread was done. Eskel dug it back out with the hook and dumped it on the table. They were digging in before it even had a chance to cool off, eating almost half the loaf. It was better than any dessert in Novigrad.

 

Wrapped up tight in cloth they stashed the leftover bread one of the wooden boxes for the next day. Geralt clasped Eskel in a strong hug from behind, and Eskel looked over his shoulder to let Geralt kiss him. Geralt tasted of fish, and grain, and Lambert’s moonshine. Turning around in Geralt’s arms to get more, deepening the kiss, Eskel tilted his head to the side and delved into Geralt’s mouth holding his face still with both hands. With one foot on either side of Geralt’s—never breaking his kiss—Eskel walked him backwards bit by bit until Geralt’s ass bumped into the table.

 

“Melitele, I wanna take you right here,” Eskel was speaking right into Geralt’s open mouth as he continued to kiss him. He felt Geralt sag in his hands when he said it, opening up more under his mouth, moaning quietly at the thought. “C’mon swords and armor off.”

 

Eskel was pleased with how quickly Geralt divested himself of everything covering his skin. It made something inside him preen to see Geralt obey him without question. How far would Geralt go for him? What could he make him do? Gods, it was intoxicating, heady, powerful. 

 

Eskel stared at Geralt naked before him, reached out to run the back of his knuckles up from hipbone to nipple, grinning as Geralt shivered. Cock hard and straining against his leathers Eskel palmed himself. Shit, he was wearing far too much leather himself, and Geralt’s slitted pupils were so wide, so aroused by this. Eskel’s mind was swirling and he needed a moment to get himself under control.

 

“Go find me some oil.” Eskel withdrew his touch and toed off his boots. Squeezing his cock roughly through his leathers to stop the tumultuous thoughts in his head while Geralt did as he was told Eskel added, “Then put your hands on the wall above the fire and don’t move them.” 

 

This was everything he ever wanted and didn’t know. Swords and leather piled on the table on top of Geralt’s. Eskel tried to keep his breathing balanced. 

 

A bottle of oil was set in front of him on the table and Geralt went over to the giant fire grate that sat between the kitchen and main hall almost as if in a daze. He placed his hands on the wall above it and leaned on his hands the slightest bit, spreading his legs like he was inviting Eskel in. The fire had died down to mostly coals, and the warm glow hugged Geralt’s pale skin making it look blushed. All Eskel could do was stand stare, holding his balls tightly to stave off cumming at the sight. Melitele fuck. That man was going to be the death of him.

  
  


Eskel measured his steps toward Geralt. Gods he needed to go slow. He reached around Geralt to rub a hand over his nipple and kissed his left shoulder blade. Dropping down to kneel Eskel kissed his way down Geralt’s back, letting Geralt’s deep steady breaths be his metronome. 

 

Setting the oil by Geralt’s foot, Eskel kissed the swell of his ass, crossing down further to where the back of Geralt’s left thigh greeted his butt. Down his thigh, mouthing over the vulnerable skin on the back of Geralt’s knee Eskel heard his breathing speed up, then crouched down on his hands to kiss Geralt’s calf. Eskel changed sides and came back up Geralt’s right leg, still listening to those perfect uniform breaths, Geralt’s heartbeat lulling him into a calm place. He crossed over Geralt’s ass again, kissing up his back to his right shoulder.

 

“You are perfect,” Eskel spoke into Geralt’s ear feeling composed again. Leaning into Geralt, pressing his cock against that wonderful ass, Eskel pinched Geralt’s nipples lightly drawing a low noise from him. Geralt swayed in his arms but he didn’t move and Eskel’s balls ached at the thought that he had caused that. “Gonna fuck you, like this, here, and every time you walk into this kitchen you will remember my cock in your ass.” 

 

“Please.” Geralt’s voice was so needy the sound of it gripped Eskel’s cock. He picked up the oil and spilled some on his fingers sliding them along Geralt’s crack, teasing his entrance. He pushed two in quickly and Geralt grunted, still his hands stayed on the wall though. Eskel squeezed his eyes closed at it all—Geralt hot around his fingers, slick and pulsing—the power overwhelming him for a moment. 

 

Geralt was shaking and Eskel wrapped his arm tighter around his waist. Whispered in his ear, “You are so good for me.” He pumped his fingers in and out. Scissored them stretching Geralt’s rim, drowning in his noises. “So so good,” he breathed against the back of Geralt’s neck. He added a third finger and Geralt was whining. Quiet, whimpering noises that went straight to Eskel’s groin. “What do you want?”

 

“You.”

 

It was only a single word but it pushed Eskel so far, he pulled his fingers out and shoved his cock in to the hilt. He had to pause to keep from losing it right then. Buried inside, Geralt crying out at the sudden intrusion, “Thank you…” falling from his lips with every third gulp of air.

 

Eskel set a languid pace, trying to hold himself back, stretch it out as far as he could, control himself and Geralt. Make the pleasure last as long as it could for both of them. Hands teasing over Geralt’s thighs, scratching the skin there lightly, up his hips, blunt fingernails tracing paths over his abdomen to Geralt’s nipples. Getting lost in Geralt’s moans. 

 

When he could take no more Eskel circled one forearm over Geralt’s hips holding him still, the other circled just below Geralt hard cock on the top if his thighs. Geralt’s cock protruded obscenely between the two and Eskel rutted into him ruthlessly chasing his own release until he was shuddering and filling Geralt with his cum. He came down slowly to Geralt shaking in his arms, hands still on the wall, legs still spread, hard cock still poking between Eskel’s hold.

 

Staying in him as he softened Eskel stroked Geralt’s cock, kissing his neck, “You were so good,” Geralt shuddered and moaned under his hand. “I will never forget this.” 

 

Eskel moaned loudly as Geralt’s ass tightened on his cock when Geralt came into the fire, sagging in his arms.

 

Geralt stayed boneless and swaying in Eskel’s arms until Eskel physically pulled him away from the fireplace, turned him around and hugged him. Even then he was quiet and it scared Eskel a little. Deciding their clothes could wait, Eskel hiked Geralt’s legs around his waist and Geralt easily went, wrapping his legs around Eskel hugging him loosely. Eskel carried him up to the their bed, wiped him down with a damp clothed and pulled him close, blankets wrapped around them both. Stroking Geralt’s hair and back, Eskel kissed his lips softly.

 

“Hey,” Eskel felt like he would never touch Geralt’s skin enough right now. “’M sorry. That was too much.”

“Nuh Uhh,” Geralt shook his head muzzily burrowing deeper against Eskel. “Was great.”

“Are you alright?” Eskel asked, confused by Geralt’s words and his completely drunk state.

 

“Never been better,” Geralt’s cat eyes opened and peaked at Eskel, then narrowed at what they saw there. Geralt reached out to touch Eskel’s scars, running a thumb over them and then pulling Eskel down for a kiss. Eskel let himself be pulled easily. Anything Geralt wanted right now. “Not too much, just right.”

Eskel grunted in surprise, “You want-”

 

Geralt cut him off, “I like it, really. I love it, when you order me around, push me to do things, take control from me.” Eskel would have doubted it but Geralt seemed to be coming around and there was a painful honesty in his eyes. “It doesn’t always have to be like that, but it’s good when it is.”

 

“Alright…” Eskel let out a breath he had been holding, “I mean I won’ lie that was insanely good for me. Scary good.”

“Don’t be scared, just be you,” Geralt kissed him again and Eskel melted into it. He could do that.

“Tell me if I am too much?” Eskel begged.

“Mhmm.”

 

Eskel slept like the dead that night. Arms enveloping Geralt, never wanting to let him go. He woke in exactly the same position he’d fallen asleep in. Grunting and stiff. They filled their tub with water and heated it and soaked for a long time to loosen their muscles. The silence was a comfortable blanket. After breakfast they set to work laying the stones into the new foundation for the stable. By the end of the week the stable foundation was complete and they were planting the garden. 

 

In the evenings they took Fiorano and Geralt’s new mare out for rides. She’d been christened Roach as well and Eskel was noticing a pattern but he kept it to himself. Plenty of spring hare and fish were accumulated either smoked or salted to be stored for next winter. They killed time sparring in the practice yard and repaired a breach in the wall. 

 

Eventually though the sprouts were coming up through the rotting hay and they had to admit that it was time to part. Eskel had suggested that they stagger their visits in the summer. Lambert would be coming back a month before fall set in and Vesemir in the middle of summer. That left late spring and early summer to them. He offered to take early summer and let Geralt have late spring. That way Geralt could work The Path in Kaedwen and the North for a month or so, stop back by, and then go on for the rest of the summer. Eskel planned to go to Point Vanis and be back in time for his visit. He really didn’t want to leave Geralt but them he never wanted to, it was this way every spring.

  
  


~~~~~

  
  


They rode down the Gwenllech together and parted before Vespaden. Neither wanted to through the actual village, it would be some time before those memories died down still. Those villagers had made their beds with mages and now they would have to live with their monsters for a good long time. Eskel rode on through the Buina Pass to Crinfrid. The message board there told of a lucrative contract in Mirt so he turned south and rode down. 

 

Mirt and Ghelibol were both located near the base of the Kestral  mountains. One a rather lucrative mining town Mirt had ground to a halt, an earth elemental had apparently made its presence felt, in a rather murderous way. No one could get near the mine alive. Several guards had been killed attempting to remove it. 

 

That didn’t surprise Eskel at all, in fact he was surprised the guard were stupid enough to even try. An angry earth elemental was like fighting a moving mountain, it had no qualms about crushing men, and had few weaknesses to exploit. Most importantly, since they were hard to handle killing them paid grand gold.

 

The townfold were thrilled to see a witcher, happy to offer their coin, quietly praying to Melitele or the Eternal Fire that this man would live to tell the tale as he walked away to check things out. Eskel could see the elemental from the edge of the pit mine. It roamed like a living sentry inside the huge dugout brown hole in the earth. Like a caged animal, barely contained rage, the mine’s tall walls and a rickety wooden elevator system all that kept the town from getting flattened. 

 

Eskel pondered his tactics while he coated his blade in elementia oil. He could toss the bomb in and shoot at it like a fish in a barrel with a crossbow, all he would have to do is outrun the rocks it hurled at him. It might take days though, they had so much life to take down. No, might as well do it the good old fashioned way, rolling and dodging all over the mine. He wasn’t going light on himself anymore, he could do this.

 

The elevator creaked under his weight each time he pulled the ropes to lower himself further into the pit. The moment the elevator touched the ground the earth elemental spotted him. Eskel tossed a dimeritium bomb at it and swung heavily at the elemental once before rolling out of the way just as the stun wore off, so much faster than on any other creature. Quen surrounded him in a gold flicker at a twitch of his fingers.

 

The earthen hulk stalked toward him and Eskel stood ready watching it. Aard flew off of his fingers, briefly stunning it for him to come in for two fast attacks and roll behind it. It dropped down into a crouch covering its head in its arms and Eskel backed off, waiting. Standing it walked in a slow circle following him at a distance before launching in the air. 

 

Eskel rolled and rolled again, trying to get as far to the edge of the mine as he could. The ring of rocks and shockwave still rocked him though, breaking his Quen and leaving him on his back. He recast Quen and searched for a vial of White Rafford’s, downing it in a gulp, veins bulging ugly and gray on his face. Running in he tossed another dimeritium bomb and landed two heavy blows bringing the elemental to one knee. It rumbled loudly and the ground trembled under Eskel’s boots. He jumped up in the air just as the elemental lifted its foot and stomped it down, sending out a wave of rocks and rubble. Another Aard left Eskel’s fingers as he landed hard on his feet, overhead swing shortly behind it.

 

The reward gold sat hefty in his coinpurse all the way to Lan Exeter. Work was reliable around the coasts, a constant mix of sirens, mucknixers, and ekhidna, keeping Eskel well fed and busy. Lan Exeter had plenty of boring work. Haunted store houses and the like. It kept him in coin but it didn’t do much else but pass the time until he needed to head back to check on Kaer Morhen.

 

Soon enough he was slowly making his way back around the Gulf of Praxeda and out of Kovir. Lan Exeter had what felt like hundreds of vendors—being a booming trade port had its advantages—though in reality it was probably closer to tens. Eskel was able to find the perfect cotton braies. Geralt’s name was written all over them, they were carmine red the same as Eskel’s armor, and incredibly soft. Eskel dropped the coin, took the braies and headed out of town. 

 

Unable to quite bring himself to ride through Hengfors Eskel cut south to Blaviken and then over to the Buina Pass again.  Just outside of Blaviken he caught a shepherd overrun by a cockatrice. The man was so grateful for Eskel’s assistance that he insisted on paying him what he could. 

 

Which turned out to be a goat kid whose mother had just been slaughtered by the cockatrice. Eskel had no idea what to do with a baby goat but the shepherd insisted, said she was already weaned and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Besides she had the cutest little nubs for horns and a face that looked perpetually pissed off. Eskel named her Lil’ Bleater because she wouldn’t shut up when he slung her up on the side of his horse. Fiorano looked mildly annoyed.

 

The ride went quickly and before he knew it, he was at the base of the Blues. Lil’ Bleater seemed right at home in the training yard, happily chewing away at the weeds. Eskel went to work on the garden, harvesting and hanging up to dry the early vegetables. He didn’t want to turn Lil’ Bleater out with the cows when he left so he blocked the garden off completely and left her in the courtyard, one of the bath springs rigged to run into a trough for her.

 

“You be good and stay outta the garden now,” he reminded her as he left to go back out on The Path for a few more months. She butted her head into the side of his thigh lovingly and he scratched the hair between her horns, “I mean it.”


	14. The Horns of Belleteyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Missed you so much,” Eskel’s breath was hot against Geralt’s skin. “Gods, jus’ wanna bury m’self in you.”_
> 
> The morning after a holiday finds Eskel and Geralt not really wanting to part ways. After hearing about a contract fit for two they check it out. It's getting harder and harder for them to stay apart during the long summers on the Path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a decent hiatus for Kinktober and Nanowrimo .... It's back! 
> 
> Many Many thanks for my wonderful Beta [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion) for cutting my brick wall of words into paragraphs. You know what I am talking about.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> A tiny warning for nongraphic rodent death.

Geralt’s back glistened in the warm light of the campfire. Pale sweat-slick skin shining gold from the fire, then blue from the moonlight. Flickering back and forth as the flames lapped at the night next to them. 

Eskel bowed his head, licking a trail up between Geralt’s shoulders, tasting the salt of his sweat and drowning in the sound of Geralt’s shuddering moan when he drove his hips deeper. Forearms resting on either side of Geralt’s ribcage Eskel caressed Geralt’s shoulder with his lips. Dragging his scarred lip up to Geralt’s ear.

“Missed you so much,” Eskel’s breath was hot against Geralt’s skin. “Gods, jus’ wanna bury m’self in you.”

With every rock of his hips, Eskel’s cock spread Geralt open deep inside, seeking and finding its home there. Eskel chased the heat of it, Geralt’s body surrounding him in silky pleasure. Spreading his knees between Geralt’s legs for better leverage, pushing them further apart, Eskel kept rocking slowly into Geralt. 

He didn’t want this to end ever—the warm fire at their sides, the shimmer of the light on Geralt’s skin, the far off sounds of horns welcoming Belleteyn in the village. 

Geralt started to shake minutely under him and Eskel let his weight drop onto him slightly, just enough to keep Geralt grounded in this moment. Eskel whispered into Geralt’s ear, “So good for me. I love you like this.” Resuming his kisses to Geralt’s shoulders, Eskel smiled raggedly against his skin when Geralt turned his head to rest it on his own arm. Content to let Eskel have his fill.

Minutes ticked by, marked only by the the far off noises of celebration and the crackle of the fire. The occasional moan from Geralt, and Eskel’s panting as he tried to make it last as long as he could. Then with an almost pained grunt Eskel stilled, emptying himself inside Geralt. 

He slipped an arm under Geralt’s hips and hauled them up. Ass in the air. Leaning back to sit on his heels, Eskel pulled Geralt upright with him—seating Geralt on his lap, cock in his ass—and wrapped his hand around Geralt’s cock to stroke it. It was velvet soft and hot in his hand. Eskel savored every noise; each breathless gasp for air, every time Geralt tried to silence his own cries by pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

Touching Geralt slow and methodically Eskel played with his cock. Base to tip, running his finger over the wet slit there, then back down. Burying his nose in that silver hair when Geralt’s head fell back against his shoulder, losing the fight with gravity and sanity to stay up. Geralt hummed deliriously and Eskel continued his torment.

“So, so good. Come for me?”

Geralt keened, turning his head toward Eskel, reach back with his arms and drawing him down for a languid kiss. Geralt came hard, up his own stomach, all over Eskel’s hand, with Eskel stroking him through it until he was oversensitive and crying out into Eskel’s mouth. And Eskel swallowed all his noises down like a drug.

Laying Geralt gently on his side, Eskel pressed a kiss to his brow. Slick with sweat, silver hair clinging to it. Eskel found his water skin and a cloth, rinsing his hand, wiping himself down. He took his time with Geralt. Cleaning the cum from his belly, and then slowly bringing Geralt’s knee to his chest. Running the cool cloth between Geralt’s legs, circling it softly over Geralt’s entrance to the sweet sighs of his lover, washing away any of Eskel’s cum there.

Drawing the blanket on top of the bedroll up and over them both, Eskel discarded the cloth by the fire to deal with in the morning. Right now, all he wanted was to feel Geralt sink into his arms, curling up in the comfort offered there, and take comfort in return from Geralt’s body still radiating the heat of their lovemaking. Fingers playing in the undercut of his hair, damp with sweat cooling in the night air.

 

The morning dew gave the fire the smell of wet ash and the heat of the previous night was gone. Geralt burrowed further into Eskel’s neck when he tried to roll over to stare up at the pale blue morning sky through the treetops. Breath ghosted hotly over his neck when Geralt sighed, pulling his leg over Eskel, settling in like a heavy blanket over half of Eskel’s body.

“Mornin’.” Eskel tangled his legs with Geralt’s, slid a hand down his back to grab at his ass possessively, pulling Geralt towards him. Just that tiny action made Geralt’s cock twitch and thicken against Eskel’s hip and his lips pulled into a half smirk at the feel of it. Always so eager, Geralt.

Crawling up Eskel’s body Geralt settled himself right over Eskel’s hips, rocking lightly to seat himself better, and leaning over Eskel’s face to capture his lips in a kiss.

“Mhmm,” Geralt’s mouth was hot on his, “It is. A very good morning.” Hips rocking in a longer stroke to drive the point home. 

Staring up at Geralt like this in the late morning light was heady, all the pale panes of his chest, covered in white and pink scars. Lithe body so full of strength and life, perfect corded muscles tensing to hold him exactly where he wanted to be on top of Eskel. 

Letting his hands slid up Geralt’s toned waist, Eskel rested them on his sides, thumbs caressing the skin over the muscles there. Silver-white hair had fallen down to brush the edges of Geralt’s shoulders and sweep in front of his liquid gold eyes. Geralt ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his face and revealing the smallest smile. 

Mouth falling open slightly, Eskel licked his lips. Fuck, Geralt was beautiful. More so as he let loose a soft laugh and leaned over Eskel to kiss him.

“Guhhngh,” Eskel groaned into Geralt’s open mouth when the kiss broke for a moment before Geralt dove back in for more. The way Geralt was bent over him brought their cocks together and every rock of Geralt’s hips slid them along each other, trapped between their abdomens. The way his cock head bumped along Geralt’s skin catching on a scar here and there was almost intolerably pleasurable. 

“Fuck. Me.” Eskel wasn’t begging but he wouldn’t lie that the desire for Geralt to take him was there.

Another chuckle rose up from Geralt’s chest, “No. But I will fuck myself on you.” Geralt’s mouth found the line of Eskel’s jaw and his teeth grazed over the stubble growing there, headless of Eskel’s need to shave still. 

“Sink down on you and ride you until you come for me for once?” Geralt was very rarely like this, taking the initiative and wanting to be somewhat in charge of sex.

“Yeah.” Eskel wanted that. To let Geralt make him come first this time. He knew it would please Geralt to have pleasured him so much.

To busy staring at the sky and Geralt’s face tense with pleasure Eskel barely noticed that Geralt had grabbed the oil and was reaching behind himself. Biting his lip at the thought of where Geralt’s fingers were and what they were doing, Eskel held back another groan. It escaped him when Geralt’s oily hand encased his cock though, giving him a few quick strokes. Eyes rolling closed Eskel let out a breath when Geralt gathered his hands from each side of his waist and brought them above his head, holding them there in his oily grip. Not at all tight. Nothing Eskel couldn’t easily escape, just a gentle reminder that Geralt was giving this pleasure to Eskel, to enjoy it for himself, and not to try giving to Geralt right now.

Eskel’s breathing slowed and he let his senses take over. The pitter patter of Geralt’s heart, the huff of his breath. The rustling of the wind in the leaves, and Geralt’s lean thighs tight against his hips. The pressure blooming over the head of his cock when Geralt rose up and rocked back onto it; and the sweet heat as Geralt’s body opened for him, tightness gliding over him, engulfing his cock as Geralt buried it inside himself. And Eskel let his wrists be held for it all. Let it wash over him in waves of comfort and contention—body satisfied.

Undulating his hips against Eskel, Geralt’s hands wandered down Eskel’s arms, releasing his wrists. Uninterested in moving, Eskel stayed still with his arms above his head, wanting to let Geralt give him this. Hands continued to explore down his biceps and over his shoulders, onto his chest. All while Geralt rode him slowly towards his inevitable end. 

Thumbs and fingers plucked at Eskel’s nipples and he sucked in a gasp. “Melitele…” He was sensitive there though Geralt was rarely allowed to touch him there when Eskel was feeling bossy in bed, and it felt like it had been forever since Geralt had played with his nipples.

“You’ve always liked that.” Eskel could hear the smile in Geralt’s voice without even opening his eyes.

“Yeah. ‘S good. Really-” another moan interrupted his own train of thought when Geralt pressed his calloused fingers against his nipples and rolled them, “-really good.”

Chest rising slightly of its own accord to meet Geralt’s fingers, Eskel rolled along with the waves of bliss, until Geralt shifted and teeth grazed over one of his nipples instead of fingers. Eyes flying open Eskel’s arms came around Geralt. One cradling his head against Eskel’s chest, and the other stilling his hips over Eskel’s. 

Grunting desperately, Eskel came hard. Air choking his lungs, the blue of the sky and the green of the trees clouding his sight above him, he rocked into Geralt. Soft licks at his nipple brought Eskel back down and he loosened his grip. Running his arms along Geralt’s sides Eskel encouraged him to resume his pace, to take his own fill.

 

It took them much longer than usual to break camp. Taking their time to pack up and exchange what they wanted to with each other even though it wasn’t much, summer had hardly started. The desire not to part was strong though. It was almost noon when Eskel rode into Kagen on Blue, with Geralt behind him on his latest mare named Roach. Blue still didn’t feel quite right underneath him yet. 

Fiorano had been lost to a particularly aggressive alghoul attacking Eskel from the side of the road, and he was still sour about. Knowing that Fiorano was close to retirement for a slow life towing the cart at Easy Thighs hadn’t made it any easier to let him go either. Blue wasn’t a bad stallion really, not as calm at the edge of a fight, but less aggressive with strangers. It was a trade off. One Eskel wasn’t sure he preferred yet.

Kagen smelled of wet burnt wood and fresh cooking food. Leaving their horses at the inn with a coin for grain, they set out to look around the market and peek at the message board. Geralt had already landed one large contract this spring and his purse held a fair amount more gold than Eskel’s, so Eskel didn’t hesitate when he offered to buy the food. 

There weren’t many stalls, Kagen wasn’t a large settlement. It survived on shepherding and served as a wool station. The women often spun and carded wool on the stoops of their huts, and it wasn’t uncommon for loose sheep to wander through a yard. What there was though, smelled divine. After only a month on the path in a rainy spring Eskel’s nose honed directly in on the scent of fried capon, and his mouth was immediately watering.

Rolling up onto his toes and dropping back down, Eskel skipped ahead and turned to face Geralt. “They’ve got fried capon legs!” He was sure the glee showed in his eyes like a little child, even though he was very carefully not smiling widely. No teeth, no letting the right side pull up.

Geralt laughed at him, keeping pace as Eskel walked backwards following his nose towards the stall. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

The merchant seemed a little nervous at having two witchers in her stall. More so than Eskel usually encountered by himself but he ignored it, happily taking a capon leg in each hand. Crispy on the outside, the skin gold from whatever fat the woman had fried it in, it was perfectly moist and tender when Eskel bit into it. Melt-in-your-mouth wonderful. Eskel let out a pleased sigh while Geralt paid the woman, taking one leg for himself. 

Further along Geralt bought a bag of freshly picked spring peas, still in the shell. In front of the local tavern sat a man on an upturned crate. Next to him were several cases of mead, dark brown glass half gallon bottles topped with a cork.

“Whatcha got there?” Eskel managed to swallow a mouthful of capon before asking.

“The best in the area! Mahakaman Mead, straight down from the mountains.” Patting his overly round belly the man sized Geralt up. Then turned back to look at Eskel. “How come there’s two of ya wanderin’ through town? Something bad coming our way?”

Eskel laughed, “No. Not unless you already know of a contract big enough for two on your board. I’ll take a bottle.” Eskel pointed at the mead, half-decimated capon leg still in his hand. “

“We’re jus’ both from the school of the wolf. Known each other a long time.” Hooking his pinky through the small handle on the bottle Eskel lifted it up as Geralt paid. 

“Ya’know witchers aren’t exactly the type folks like to ‘ave around, the only company we’re gonna get is ourselves. Best make the most of it if you run into someone you know.” Raising his uneaten capon leg at the man Eskel smiled letting his scars show a little more than he normally would, just to see the man’s face pale. 

Walking back to the center of town they sat on the rocks around the well to eat. Shelling peas, and enjoying the crispy skin perfectly fried on the outside of the capon. Eskel picked every bit of meat off of the bone, even breaking the bone open and licking the marrow out of the center, then shared the mead with Geralt to wash it all down. It was savory and fresh; and after even a month of eating boring trail rations and stale bread, it satiated a need in Eskel.

Scanning the villagers and common folks from the surrounding farms who had come in to celebrate throughout the night, Eskel reclined back against the rock wall of the well. Full of tasty food, sexually satisfied, and fast finding himself wishing he could go back to bed. 

Young women wearing flower crowns tittered to themselves and Eskel made a point of trying to tune out their conversations. He had no desire to overhear what they had gotten up to in the bushes last night. Older women hauled baskets of raw wool on their backs, hardly pausing as they walked by chiding the youth that the holiday was over. Two sheep ran down the main road with a boy following behind them, shrieking at them to stop.

Out of the corner of his eye Eskel caught sight of the man from the front of the tavern rambling over to them and sighed. It was a good day and he really didn’t want to deal with someone who wanted nothing but to make it into a bad one. Elbowing Geralt, Eskel barely gave a nod in the direction of the man.

“Relax, maybe he just wants to sell more mead. Witchers are known for their drinking, you know.” Flashing Eskel a smile Geralt bumped his shoulder into Eskel’s but received only a soft grunt in reply.

“Doubt it.” Taking a last swig Eskel corked the mead bottle and set it between his legs, resting his arms on his knees, deliberately ignoring the man until he was so close Eskel could smell him. Dark honey eyes flashing up at the man, Eskel kept his face placid, no longer trying to scare the man away. “Can we help you?”

“I-” The man swallowed dryly, “-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean no offense earlier. I don’t mind witchers coming to stay at my tavern. You keep us safe. Usually. I was only worried that-” he cast a quick glace off towards the mountains, “-well with two of ya, that the terror in the mountains might not be stayin’ in the mountains. That’s all.”

Groaning Eskel rand a hand over his scars. The man was really just worried.

“What terror in the mountains, exactly?” Geralt broke in, “Did you think would require two witchers to handle?”

They hadn’t even looked at the notice board yet, Eskel realized. Hell. maybe there was a job for the both of them. Mahakaman normally took care of its own issues though. The werebbubbs and the dwarves were fairly capable in a fight, even against a monster. Given proper numbers they could handle most things on their own.

“On my last few mead runs—I go only over the Yaruga to the base of the mountains—the dwarves delivering to me had injuries. Both times. Bad. Bites and claw marks. They say  things attacked them on the way down the mountains with their deliveries. They said going back up the mountain after the first attack they were left alone. I don’t know about after the second, haven’t gone for my delivery again yet.” Removing his hat the man twisted it in his hands. “I’m sure they’d pay you one way or another to make their road safe again. I’ll- I’ll leave you be now, Master witchers.” And just like that the tavern owner turned tail, heading back to his tavern at a clip.

“Well shit. Tha’s what I get for bein’ judgmental.” Eskel sighed. 

A peek at Geralt revealed raised eyebrows looking back at him. “Worth a trip up into the mountains at least. Also, means I get to spend a few more nights sharing a camp with you.” Geralt’s small smile snuck through his carefully schooled face then.

“I will never say no to you sharing a camp with me.” The words were whisper quiet, not meant to be heard by any ears but another witcher’s. Eskel gave a half smirk at Geralt happiness reaching his eyes. “Check the notice board an’ pick up our horses. Then we can at least cross the river an’ camp at the base for the night. Sounds like the trouble’s mostly for merchants with cargo, but bandits don’t have claws.”

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

The climb into the Mahakam Mountains was slow going. The trail was rocky, rutted by years of wagon wheels rolling over it, and covered in fresh slides of gravel in places. The road up was eerily quiet. Given how much mead, iron, steel, and weaponry the mountains exported, it unsettled Eskel to see none of it coming down the road.

During yet another pause to clear the path of rubble, Eskel’s ears picked up rustling movement from the ravine below them. A glance up at Geralt revealed he had heard the noise as well and they each shifted their bodies to face the noise while continuing to work as though nothing were amiss. Beady eyes were peering at Eskel from behind a craggy rock outcropping. Not approaching, and not revealing themselves. 

After a while Eskel had the path cleared and had grown tired of the game. “We can see you there. C’mon out, you haven’t attacked us, we won’t attack you.”

From behind the rock came not one but two werebbubbs. Brown fur peppered with gray and eyes glittering like wet obsidian. They watched the witchers carefully as they approached, short glaives still in their grasp at their sides. “Witchersss? Why have you come here?” The one with slightly more gray than brown in his fur spoke first.

“The road is not ssafe. You should turn back now.” The other one appeared younger but not by much. They spoke in common but their large shovel-shaped front teeth caused the words to whistle oddly on the way out.

“The tavern owner in Kagen said that his deliveries were being attacked.” Geralt stepped forward calmly. “We came to find out if we could help. Mahakam has always handled its own problems, we figured if it was that bad, maybe it could require both of us? We only want to work, then we’ll leave.”

The werebbubbs looked at each other for a long moment and then back to Geralt. “Namesss Banagher, thisss here isss Luuk.” He gestured toward the younger one. “There’ss trouble for ssure. Some thingsss are attacking the deliveriesss on thisss sside of the mountain. Go further up the road, dwarf named Frici runsss the mine and disstillery there. He can tell you more.”

Eskel thanked them before swinging up into Blue’s saddle. Vaguely he wondered how many werebbubbs were even left. They’d been nearly eradicated by pogroms and war with humans over their land.

True enough a few hours slow ride up the mountain near the peak the sounds of a small camp began to filter down to Eskel’s ears. A troupe of five dwarves greeted them, blocking the road as they came around the bend. Eskel had to suppress the urge to snicker. It was probably meant to be a show of force, a deterrent to whomever dared approach that they would not pass, but he knew him and Geralt could easily take on five men—winning without hardly breaking a sweat.

After again explaining that they wanted to assist, for a reasonable amount of compensation, and that they did know there was trouble on the mountain, the dwarves relented. Demanding that they dismount and follow them to Frici. 

Blue and Roach were led away to nibble on a rare patch of grass nearby and the witchers were led through a smattering of tents to a hole in the earth. Descending down into the damp ground Eskel had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the rock above him, sounds echoed all around in the tunnel as it went further down. Eventually it opened up into a cavern, large, wide, and thankfully tall enough Eskel could stand up straight again

“Frici! These witchers say they can help with our problems, for a price.” One of the dwarves called out to a stocky redheaded dwarf the cavern. His beard was forked, each side braided down to his chest and his red hair was shaved on the sides leaving only a strip down the middle of his head. A massive scar of gnarled flesh was knotted on one side of his head. Eskel wondered silently how he’d survived that. Maybe it had only been a surface wound, but still head wounds bled a lot.

“Is that so?” Frici walked closer inspecting Eskel with the eyes of someone who had seen a life of battle and hard work. “You know the full story?”

“No.” Eskel admitted. “We know half of it, though. Someone or somethin’ is attackin’ the shipments that you send down the mountain to sell.”

“Then you know we’ve stopped sending cargo south. We’ll starve the bandits out.” Frici was watching Eskel’s eyes thoughtfully. “Once they get tired of waiting for fortune to come their way and move on, we’ll go back to delivering. No problem left to be solved, mate.”

“True, you could. Mahakam’s always been skillful at handlin’ its own problems. Bandits don’t normally bite, or have claws though, an’ most monsters aren’t so organized.” Frici’s eyes flickered to Geralt and back to Eskel. Still level and calm Eskel carried on with his pitch. “Closin’ the trade route will work eventually, a month or maybe two, but it’ll cost you. Cheaper to hire us than lose the trade, an’ things with claws an’ teeth like that happen to be a specialty of ours.” Smiling over at Geralt, Eskel waited for him to chime in.

“If we can solve this in quarter of the time for quarter of the cost of your lost profits, what is there to lose? If we don’t find out what’s attacking your shipments you’ve lost nothing.” Geralt offered Frici his hand and when Frici hesitated a moment before shaking it, Geralt carried on. “It’s not like we are going to bring humans up here, we aren’t exactly humans ourselves.” There was an undertone of something Eskel couldn’t quite place in Geralt’s voice, but it seemed to put Frici at ease.

“All we need are the details an’ a place to start. Maybe where one of the shipments was attacked last?” Crossing his arms Eskel shifted his weight on his feet. He was anxious to get started, didn’t particularly like the mood that had settled over Geralt just now.

“The boys’ll show you the last spot, they can also take you to see the bodies.” Signaling to the five who’d shown them in as he walked away, Frici sighed heavily. “Do this is and you will be paid properly.”

Exchanging a glance with Geralt that clearly said,  bodies? Eskel turned to follow after the five with Geralt close behind. They were led away from the cavern farther into the heart of the mountain. The sounds of pickaxes on rock ringing along the tunnel walls as they crouched low. Two dwarves ahead of them and three behind, guiding them ever deeper into the bowels of what was fast becoming apparent was a small city underground.

Marveling quietly at the mundane city life they passed all around them, each cavern that opened up held new wonders for Eskel. Groups of houses carved into the cavern walls, lone candles burning in the windows to light the space around them. Huge iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling of the cave on long chains, enormous candles throwing eerie shadows all over. Eskel note that the top of each cavern tended to have a steel grate covering a natural chimney of sorts, he guessed for ventilation.

Another cavern held a market, full of stalls run by dwarves and gnomes alike, that glittered with precious gems, weapons so smooth their surfaces shone like mirrors, booze, leathers, and dry goods of all kinds. 

Yet another held the smells of sickness, herbs, and blood. It was in this one that they turned off into a side tunnel, waiting while one of their guides went into the main building to retrieve a key to unlock the gate. Passing through, they entered an antechamber, light from another gate leading directly out to the other side of the mountain flooded into it.

There were five raised stone beds, and on three laid the corpses of dwarves. One of their guides brought a hurricane lantern up and set it in a cut out in the wall clearly made for that but there was no need. The light from the other gate to the outside was more than enough for both Eskel and Geralt to see. Long slashing gashes covered their arms, small pin prick bite marks all over their exposed skin, and larger bite marks, made by teeth set close together, sharp and long. Not the werebbubbs but similar, because these marks had a matching set for the bottom teeth as well.

 

“Looks like rat bites—the little ones do—here and here.” Geralt pointed to the small bites littered everywhere on the exposed skin of the corpse he was inspecting. Taking a whiff he commented, “Smells like rat, too. I’ve seen it lots on less fortunate folks in the slums of Cintra and Novigrad.”

Indicating one of the large bites, where a chunk of flesh was missing, Eskel pointed out to Geralt. “Rats don’ get this big.” 

“No but arouranthropes are that big, and they live in colonies with regular rat and mice.” Geralt bent to remove a few hairs that were trapped under the metal buckle of the dead man. He held it up for Eskel to sniff.

Taking a deep drag of the air around the hairs in Geralt’s fingers Eskel was bowled over by the smell of rodent. “Wererats? Don’t they only change during the full moons though?”

Geralt cast the hair onto the floor. “Not if they are born arauranthropes. Then they can control their change at will.”

“Alright. We’ve seen enough here. Show us where the last attack was, please.” Eskel rolled his shoulders trying to ease the tension of spending so much time hunched over in the tunnels and let Geralt go in front this time.

Out on the side of the mountain again the dwarves had taken them back to their horses and warily shuttled them down the road to a place where they had cleared a slide of gravel. 

Eskel didn’t know how they had both missed the smell of old blood in the area before, maybe because they had been distracted after meeting the werebbubbs. But it was clearly present in his nose now. A week old at most, combined with the smell of sweet mead, and the stench of rodent.

Their assembled guides who Eskel was sure were also indeed their guards, were in no hurry to linger in the area. Sure that the witchers were out of their city, and in no way interested in protecting them, they scurried back up the mountain path towards their home.

“Alright. ‘S wererats that are attackin’ the merchant’s cargo. But why?” Eskel shook his head at Geralt.

Shrugging Geralt explained simply. “Because they can, they’re bandits. They happen to have the advantage of being scary, strong, bandits. But they are bandits all the same. They steal the cargo while changed. Then move it and sell it after they change back into human form, no one is the wiser, they profit.” Looking up at the mountain side and then down into the valley Geralt stretched, cracking his back. “You wanna bait them with some cargo and a cart?”

Raising his good eyebrow Eskel laughed. “Honestly? They reek. This place smells of week old rodent, we can jus’ follow our noses right to them.”

“Fighting them near their own nest might be dangerous,” Geralt cautioned.

“But it also means we won’ miss any, an’ there’s two of us. You’ll have my back an’ I’ll have yours.” With a firm grip Eskel squeezed Geralt’s shoulder. “C’mon.”

There noses took them far down the side of the mountain. They had left their horses back up on the path and worked their way down the treacherous rock on foot, sliding down the rubble, catching themselves on the twisted stubs of what passed for trees this high up. 

Eventually Eskel dropped over the edge of a rock face and onto a ledge littered with scraps of wood and cloth. Almost immediately his feet were swarmed with a teaming wave of rats and mice from the cave in front of him. Brown, gray, white, and black all intermixed, scrabbled at his boots, clawing to get up his leathers. Igni flowed out of Eskel’s fingers, down and outward in a perfect circle. Squeaks and the smell of burning fur rose around him.

“Geralt.” Eskel called out trying to keep his voice low and calm. “I think we’ve found them.”

Landing in front of him with the slap of his boot soles on stone, Geralt looked around the ground at Eskel’s feet. He drew out a potion from his pouch and gulped half of it down before passing it to Eskel. “Cat.” Drawing his silver Geralt turned, creeping silently into the opening of the cave.

As soon as the cave widened into a room, Eskel dropped Yrden on the floor. It stopped the crossbow bolts coming at Geralt midair, shattering them where they sailed. A lean and wiry woman launched herself at Geralt, daggers flashing in the dark cave. 

Eskel trusted Geralt to handle her as he took on a scrawny looking young man whose body was contorting, changing in front of his eyes into that of a massive rat. The wererat dropped to all fours and charged at Eskel with surprising speed for such a small space. A group of rodents streaming out of the cracks in the cave walls behind him to join the fray. 

Eskel cast Quen on himself quickly, letting the smaller rodents run around him, sparks flying as the Quen repelled their tiny claws. 

It prevented the wererat from slicing into Eskel with his claws, and halted his teeth from sinking into Eskel’s shoulder, but it did nothing to slow the momentum the charge carried. 

Sliding along the cave floor and leaning into him Eskel let the floor take some of the energy, and then wiggled his fingers in a burst of Aard to send him flying. Not losing a beat Eskel charged after him to sink his sword into the wererat’s belly. 

A sting in his leg let him know he was not alone. Bending over and back Eskel swung down at a third wererat who’d dove at his legs catching one with his claw. Geralt’s sword swung in, parting the wererat’s hand from his arm cleanly, leaving Eskel free to turn around and fight. 

The wiry woman lay dead on the floor of the cave. Eskel let Igni set fire to the last one and Geralt’s sword ended his misery. Rats and mice lay broken and dead all over the floor of the cave from Eskel’s Aard.

Eskel’s leg still stung but the bleeding was slowing to a sluggish trickle and he ignored it. Meanwhile Geralt collected heads for trophies, along with a few pieces of proof—loot from the lost shipments—bagging them into a burlap sack from the corner of the cave. Eskel was not looking forward to the climb back up the rocky side of the mountain at all now.

Crouching down behind him Geralt peeled back the torn flap of Eskel’s leathers. “Won’t need stitches but it would probably feel better going back up with a Swallow.” Eskel grunted but gladly took the potion Geralt pressed into his hand when he stood back up.

 

The heads rolled on the massive oak table in front of Frici. “I’ll be damned. Wererats you say? Robbing our goods and selling them off, like regular bandits?” Shaking his head and rubbing his braided beard Frici continued, “You did a good job boys. A bag of jewels and a small keg of mead each.”

Nodding at Frici, Eskel took his pay and passed Geralt his. The kegs would be waiting up top by their horses Frici informed them. Thanking him Eskel smiled politely, keeping it small, not letting it pull at his face. 

He’d never say no to free mead. The way back up to the top was as winding and confusing as it was the first time. Eskel was glad to leave the low tunnels behind for the fresh air again. It still amazed him what the dwarves and gnomes had constructed under the mountain there, but it wasn’t made for men the size of him and Geralt.

The ride back down the mountain was just as slow as the ride up. If only because their purses were full and there was no need to hurry. The slides were clear now, and there was traffic making its way down past them. Wagons on rickety wheels, flying quickly down the mountain, held in place only by the time worn ruts in the rock.

At the bottom Eskel didn’t want to part, but jobs that took two were rare and it was time. Craving a hug, but trying not to give into the neediness Eskel set it aside. “See you in the fall?”

Strong hands grabbed his hips pulling him close, and Geralt wound his arms around Eskel’s waist. “No. One more night. Camp with me please. Then I’ll see you in the fall.”

Heart skipping a beat and hand coming to rest under Geralt’s ponytail Eskel felt warm all over. “Alright. One more night, then I’ll go north.” 

Pulling Geralt along with him, not letting him go, Eskel moved over to a tree and leaned back against it. Savoring the way Geralt’s nose was buried in his neck, inhaling the smell of his soap no doubt, Eskel let Geralt hold him tightly. Petting the soft short hair that had grown in under Geralt’s ponytail and stoking the side of his pale neck. Eskel watched Roach and Blue grazing in the distance. He would stay like this until Geralt let go he decided.


	15. Ch. 15 With Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Unable to stand disappointing Geralt on top of everything else Eskel picked up the bowl and set it in his lap. After a long pause, he brought the wooden spoon to his lips. The porridge was warm, and tasted pleasant, but swallowing was hard. Eskel fought the urge to gag. With each bite Geralt’s gaze got a little less intense, and Eskel noticed that Geralt occasionally looked down at his own bowl the more Eskel worked to eat._
> 
> They might mutate the body, and the mind may follow, but can they ever truly prepare the witchers for all that may come with their mutations?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say please don't hate me, but go ahead and hate me. Part of a good story is the rocky road it takes.
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter are heavy, please take a peak after the jump if you have any concerns about what might bother you. Read safely!
> 
> As always Beta Read by the amazeballs [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion)! Check out their page for hot kinky ork porn.

Eskel had ventured as far south as Toussaint this summer. The work was steady and kept leading him further south. He was glad for it. The previous year he’d gone north, over to Point Vanis, working all of Kovir and Povis, never making it down to Vizima to end his fall there the way he liked to.

 

As much as Eskel wasn’t fond of the various forms of lesser vampires, he had to admit hunting them down paid well. As he’d gotten older the fights had gotten a bit less utterly terrifying, and more manageable—with good preparation. Not to say he didn’t hold a healthy dose of fear for the monsters, they could still easily take him out if he was unprepared, a fact he was always aware of when he rode around Toussaint gathering and completing contracts.

 

The leaves on the giant oaks turning from red to pale gold, and the regular steady drizzles turning the hard dry path to a muddy groove cut in the yellowed grass marked the passing of the seasons. Eskel made his way up toward Vizima as summer fully succumbed to fall. With no more warm breezy days to enjoy, he sped up, moving faster as the days grew shorter.

 

Through Sodden and into Maribor, Eskel rode Blue, pausing only to take on a few minor contract. In Maribor he did take the time to look through the market stalls and find a new pair of spun silk braies for Geralt, there was only one but he couldn’t pass it up. They were the lilac with silver threads stitched in lines running up the length of them. Eskel had never seen anything like them before and he knew he had to have them for Geralt no matter the cost. And the cost was steep. It didn’t matter though.

 

Taking the well traveled route out of Maribor toward White Orchard that would eventually lead him over to Vizima, Eskel let his mind drift as he rocked in the saddle. Thoughts of seeing Geralt again, demur smile in those pale purple braies and nothing else, filled his head.

 

It had been many months since he’d seen his lover and Eskel missed Geralt. Time and distance had kept them from meeting up on the Path even once this year and Eskel hadn’t realized just how used to those hidden little trysts he’d grown. Something inside of him ached for Geralt’s skin against his own, to hear Geralt’s laugh ringing in his ears. To know that he was safe from the dangers of the Path.

 

Riding on Eskel ignored the sounds around him—the calls of the collared flycatchers, the gurgle and croak of a far off pack of drowners—lost in the fantasy of his mind as the road slipped by.

Soon enough White Orchard was approaching and Eskel debated spending the coin on a real bed. In the end he passed right through town and out the other side though. Vizima wasn’t days away, he’d toss together a camp off the side of the ride in the woods, eat some hazelnuts and venison jerky. Tomorrow would bring The Hairy Bear and Eager Thighs, with better food, a scratchy bed and the chance to catch up with Aldith again.

 

He steered Blue off the beaten path and into the trees, searching for a decent place to make his for the night. Choosing near a cluster of large pine trees Eskel turned Blue free to munch on whatever grass he could find, throwing his saddle in the dry dirt under the trees. Eskel didn’t bother with a fire, just unrolled his bedroll under the trees as well, pushing his saddlebags up against his saddle to create a pillow of sorts for himself. Digging in his pack he pulled out an alchemy bowl and set it out in the rain to collect water for the morning.

 

Curling up on his side on his bedroll Eskel pulled his wool blanket up over the pommels of his swords and sighed, letting out a heavy breath. He’d only bothered taking off his boots. He didn’t plan on sleeping long, just until the first light of dawn.

 

The thoughts of Geralt wouldn’t leave his head though and Eskel struggled to relax enough to slip into sleep. Groaning internally Eskel tried to empty his mind, and let his fingers wander down to the laces of his leathers. Tugging them open, Eskel blew the air out of his lungs and drew it back in. Inhaling the smell of wet pine and damp earth, he opened them just enough to loosen the laces on his braies, pushing them down.

 

Soft when he freed himself, Eskel gave his cock a few gentle strokes with the tips of his fingers. Imagining he had Geralt on his knees in front of him, the idea was entirely too enticing. The prospect of teasing himself to hardness right in front of Geralt’s waiting mouth quickly got his cock interested in the attention it was receiving. How Geralt would just let Eskel use him mouth but would offer it up willingly, would beg for it if Eskel held back. There was something so alluring about how much Geralt needed him sometimes.

 

Fingers circling himself lightly now Eskel’s breath sped up ever so slightly as he took his fantasy further. Letting Geralt suck and mouth at his cock only to take it away and hear him whine. The desperation to be allowed to please would be written all over Geralt’s face. He’d rather Eskel tease him and tell him he couldn’t come than have the chance to please Eskel taken away. He could order Geralt to touch himself and he would—without question. Then he could press his own cock back in Geralt’s mouth, take hold of his ponytail and rut into his mouth without mercy. And Geralt would love it all, want it all. Sometimes Geralt craved it like that, needed to feel Eskel claiming ownership over him.

 

“Shit.” It was a quiet word whispered in the dark night of the forest and Eskel fought to keep the rest of the words that wanted to tumble out in. Pressing his lips hard together and breathing heavily through his nose as he stroked up his length and squeezed the head before running his fingers back down. One every upstroke he rubbed his forefinger over the sensitive skin where his foreskin had drawn back to expose his head.

 

Eskel could feel his balls tightening, pulling up against his body, everything from his ass to the tip of his cock throbbing with waves of arousal at the images in his mind. Geralt’s mouth stretched wide around him, golden eyes staring up at him blown wide and glassy, wet with the effort of taking Eskel into his throat. How Geralt would work himself hard and fast, so close to his own orgasm just from being used like that.

 

Eskel’s strokes got shorter and faster. Reaching down with his other hand he pushed his hand into his braies to fondle his balls, giving them a light squeeze. It sent him right over the edge and he barely caught himself. Cupping his hand over the head, Eskel’s cock jerked, spurting warm and sticky into his fist.

 

A low groan did escape as he rose up to wipe his dirty hand on the dead leaves and grass outside his dry spot under the trees. As he settled back and tucked himself back into his braies, lacing up his leathers, Eskel took a deep breath. The wet pine and damp earth was still there and over it all was the salty scent of himself, bitter and musky tainting forest’s natural scent. Eskel laughed quietly to himself and curled back up on his side, drifting quickly off to sleep, with arousal still sitting warm in his gut.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

Vizima looked exactly the same as it always did when Eskel led Blue through the gates of the Temple District. Teaming with life, merchants all around hustling to their destinations, ready to hawk their wares. Busy, a bit grimy, with a chill from the lake wind that accompanied every fall here.

 

Heading straight to The Hair Bear Eskel got Blue settled in a stall, and paid for a bucket of dry grain and sheaf of hay, before going inside to get himself situated as well. There was always a room open at The Hairy Bear. It wasn’t a popular inn, because the beer was awful, watered down with Gods knows what, and the beds were lumpy straw frequented by fleas as much as weary travelers. Eskel never cared though. It had surprisingly hearty food for sale, and was right across from his real destination.

 

Eskel paid for a room for two nights since he knew he’d be staying to visit and get his armor repaired. Then he bought himself a bowl of stew to take up to his room. He never bought drinks here, always drinking from his own supply as he enjoyed his food in his room. Between that and sleeping in his armor with his own bedroll thrown on top of the straw mattress, over the years Eskel had perfected his ability to stay comfortably at the inn.

 

The stew was a hodge podge of beets, wild carrots, yam, with bits of offal mixed in. Eskel took his time and enjoyed it, letting the warmth soak into his body after riding in the rain. When he was finished he went downstairs and out the door, heading straight over to Eager Thighs, more than ready to sit on Aldith’s couch and heat her tea.

 

Pushing the door open with a scrape of wood on wood, Eskel stepped in and let his eyes adjust to the light inside. A few of girls glanced up at him, and one he recognized from before approached.

 

Tipping his head at her he stepped towards her. “’M lookin’ for Madame Aldith.” To the girls who’d seen him before he was unforgettable—a witcher, and a horribly scarred one at that—they all knew he wasn’t here for them.

 

Her voice was apologetic and soft when she replied, “Let me go get you Madame Marsali. Please. Wait here.”

 

 _Madame_ Marsali? The brothel only had one Madame and that was Aldith. A sinking feeling crept into Eskel’s gut as he stood dumbfounded waiting for Aldith’s partner to come to him. The longer he waited the further into the pit of his stomach it wrenched itself, and by the time Marsali walked towards him with a somber look on her face he knew. He didn’t need her to tell him. He didn’t want her to tell him. He wanted her to go away.

 

Turning to leave without a word he was halted by Marsali’s hand grasping at his wrist. “Wait!”

He stopped dead in his tracks but couldn’t turn around and face her. Aldith was _gone_. There was no sense in this, no sense in being in Vizima now. No reason to be here.

 

“She wanted you to have this.” Marsali pressed something cold and ceramic against his palm. Fighting with himself not to turn around for several long moments before finally caving in, Eskel turned half way to see a fine bone china cup. Glazed black and white with little yellow accents on the flowers. It was one of Aldith’s favorite teacups, he recognized immediately. “It doesn’t have a matching pot or anything, but it was one of her favorites.”

 

“I know.” Hearing his own voice sound watery, Eskel knew he had to leave, soon. He took the cup and nodded at Marsali, turning again to go.

 

“She went easy you know, last year.” There was a pause and then Marsali soldiered on. “You could go visit her grave, in Vizima Cemetery. I do. Sometimes it helps.”

 

The ache behind his eyes was overwhelming and Eskel yanked the door open, leaving abruptly. Before his boot hit the street the tears were streaming down his face and it was all he could do to make it back across to the inn and past the stares up to his room before he let out a sob.

 

The teacup sat on the nightstand, out of place in its beauty in the dingy inn. Eskel sat on his lumpy single bed, both knees drawn up and his arms wrapped tightly around them. Like if he held himself tight enough he wouldn’t shake apart with his sobs as they broke free and rattled his body. Sitting there alone in his misery, no one knocked on the door, no one came to check on the noise. None cared about a strange witcher, bawling his eyes out. Or if they did they were too terrified to try to soothe him.

 

Eskel had no idea how long he passed like this. At some point he gave up on sitting up and fell over onto his side, knees still hugged to himself sniffling away as his tears dried up. But the ache in his chest didn’t ease. Even when he’d stopped crying altogether there was still a hard lump in his throat and a vague pain that just would not go.

 

Sitting up he rummaged in his pack for a bottle of vodka and started sipping it. The sting was distracting but not enough. Sips turned into swallows, and swallows into gulps, but being a witcher meant not only did he still look like he had when he’d met Aldith, he needed more than a single bottle of vodka to get drunk. Digging further he found a bottle of White Gull and uncorked it. It made his eyes water in a way that had nothing to do with sadness and everything to do with potency.

 

Taking a swallow straight from the bottle burned in a satisfying way. Then another. And another. The ache in his chest didn’t go away but the burn in his throat made him forget about it for a moment. The moments of forgetfulness grew longer, one stretching into the next in a blur, until Eskel realized he was digging in his pack for another bottle of White Gull to replace the empty one in his hand again and there wasn’t another one.

 

Ass dropping to the floor in defeat, he set down the empty bottle and realized he didn’t care that there wasn’t another one. The energy to get back up eluded him though, so he rolled onto his side and merely passed out.

 

It was less the light flooding in through the greasy window in his room, and more the raucous noises filtering up from the kitchen downstairs that pulled Eskel out of his fugue the next morning. He’d drank all afternoon and been passed out all through the night.

 

With his head pounding and a raging need to piss, Eskel groaned afraid to roll over until he knew where the edge of the bed was. Feeling around informed him that he was, in fact not even on the bed though, but on the hard wooden floor. Blinking his eyes slowly and trying to tune out the sounds of the cook hollering downstairs, Eskel took in the scene he’d left himself in. Two empty bottles reeking of White Gull and an empty bottle of Temerian Pepper Vodka littered the floor in front of him.

 

“Fuck.” The sound of his own voice reverberated in his ears. What was he thinking last night? Then it all came flooding back to him and Eskel squeezed the bridge of his nose hard to force back the ache behind his eyes.

 

First thing was first, he needed to piss. Probably needed to piss yesterday. Very carefully Eskel sat himself up and grabbed hold of the edge of the bed. Leaning on it for support while he got his wobbly legs underneath himself. Once he was up, he took a few hesitant steps and then found it wasn’t so bad if he kept one hand on the wall.

 

Making his way downstairs and out the door, Eskel ignored the funny looks from the long early morning patron and innkeeper. The sunlight stabbed his eyes like daggers and he closed his eyes against the light, squinting so much he could barely see a trodden path around back to the outhouses. If he was anywhere else but in a city he would have just pissed right there past the front door.

The darkness inside the outhouse was a relief and Eskel took his time. When he emerged again he felt at least partially better. Back upstairs in his room he guzzled some water from his water skin and ate a hard stale roll from his back. It made his stomach gurgle and question his judgment for a moment before settling.

 

Then he sat on the bed and surveyed the mess he’d left himself yet again. He’d have to remake the White Gull, it was an essential ingredient in so many of his potions, and now he had none. Thankfully he hadn’t dropped his weapons off at the blacksmith yet. Suddenly he had no desire to stay in Vizima any longer than absolutely necessary.

 

Groaning as he bent over, Eskel dug out his alchemy burner, boiling flask, and other supplies. He set up the rig on the nightstand careful of the teacup. Once he had a new batch of White Gull distilling away, Eskel went to work rearranging his pack and saddle bags. Replacing everything he’d unceremoniously scattered around in his search for alcohol the night before, and finding a spare tunic to carefully wrap the teacup in. All packed up he left his room nothing but the armor on his back, swords, and his gold.

 

In the market Eskel purchased some basics. Dry food, a bag of apples for himself and Blue, a new bottle of vodka for good measure, and a small sack of grain to supplement the dying fall grass on the ride north. As he was leaving the market gate he saw a young girl peddling dried flowers—daisy chains, crowns, and small bouquets. The ache in Eskel’s chest grew into a pang all of a sudden. He wanted to see Aldith before he left Vizima. He had counted on it. It was something he would never get again.

 

Motioning the girl over Eskel bought a chain of flowers, woven together in life and dried to preserve their beauty. Not really thinking about where he was headed with them or what he would do when he got there until he was swinging the creaking gate to the cemetery open.

 

Marsali’s words came back to him about visiting the cemetery and Eskel thought bitterly this was the only way he could see Aldith now. At least he could make her grave look as beautiful as she had to him in life.

 

It was in the same district as the inn and the brothel, a circular city of headstones. Wandering amongst the headstones for a while, reading the names and dates lead him in the direction of newer and newer graves. It unsettled him that hers was not the newest. That he had not been here at the end. _At least she had the girls and Marsali with her_ , he comforted himself. It wasn’t enough though, he wished it was him, wished she wasn’t dead. Briefly he wished she could have lived a long life free of disease like him, and then immediately regretted it, no he wouldn’t wish the agony of the Trials on anyone, especially not Aldith.

 

“’M sorry I wasn’t here for you.” Laying the flower chain around the base of her headstone Eskel dropped to his knees and cried again. Quietly this time until his body felt as exhausted as his mind. Then he got up. “Good bye.”

 

Everything felt a little off. The White Gull came off the distilling rig and he bottled it up. He took his bags down and saddled Blue. Deciding that it wouldn’t be wise to hit the Path on a nearly entirely empty stomach Eskel forced himself to go back inside and order a cold ham slice on a biscuit. He stood leaning against the wall outside The Hairy Bear while he choked it down, unable to bear the suffocating air inside. He didn’t want to be in Vizima any more and the faster he got on the road the better. Two men strolled past to the outhouses, and Eskel bristled at their intrusion into the bubble of space he’d claimed for himself against the wall.

 

Finishing his biscuit and washing it down with a bit of cider from his pack Eskel paid the stable boy and brought Blue around front. He was just getting ready to mount up and leave when the same two men walked back by from the outhouses talking loudly.

 

“Nah, you couldn't pay me to put it in one of those _bloode kusse_!” The tall man with oily black hair laughed. “There’s something wrong with the lot of them. I heard half of them run around acting like men in there. Waving fake cocks around even!”

 

The other man snickered at that. “I heard it’s always been that way. There’s a better brothel in the Trade Quarter, classy whores there, act like real women.”

 

Rage boiled up in Eskel and he couldn’t control it. “’Scuse me.” Roughly shoving his way between the men their exit, blocking them in between the stable, the side of the inn, and himself. “You think there’s somethin’ wrong with the girls at Eager Thighs?” How dare these assholes judge those women, they had no idea.

 

“Um, their hardly _girls_ , Master Witcher. They’re whores, and pathetic ones at that.” The one with oily black hair looked straight at Eskel. He was the same height, and his face read confusion laced with disgust.

 

Eskel didn’t take the time to decide if the disgust was directed at him or Marsali and her girls. He just cocked back and let go with all his force. The man’s head spun and there was an audible sickening crack. Before he could fall Eskel grabbed his collar and landed his own head hard on the man’s face, shattering his nose.

 

Dropping him to the ground Eskel stomped his boot in the man’s chest, “They are,” another heavy stomp, accompanied by a crack of ribs, “not just whores.” Landing another hard stomp right over his breastbone, Eskel saw the red bubbles blowing out of the man’s mouth and realized he had gone much too far, but he couldn’t stop himself. Propelled by grief and rage that knew no outlet.

 

“They’re people. Somebody’s girl.” With a less forceful kick to the side of the man’s head Eskel watched horrified at himself as the man didn’t even blink. Blank stare fixed on the wall of the inn even as his head lolled much too loosely. FUCK. He had to get out of here. Now.

 

“Y-” the other man was scared shitless, unable to move rooted to the ground standing right next to his now dead friend. “You killed him? You killed Patrick, for no reason!” He swallowed roughly, pale faced and fell to the ground. “Please Master Witcher, PLEASE don’t kill me!”

 

“Ahhh fuck! Get out of here!” Eskel kicked at him and sent him running.

 

Ignoring the dead man between the stable and the inn, Eskel swung up onto Blue. Best to get far far away from here before the other man regained his senses and lost his fear. There’d be a mob out for him in no time. The guards eyed him with all the usual suspicion a witcher always encountered as he left the Temple District gates, but nothing more.

 

Free of the city, Eskel set a hard pace for the plains. It wouldn’t be as fast as the roads, but he wouldn’t be as likely to run into a patrol either. One that would potentially recognize him as the witcher who’d murder a man in cold blood in Vizima days before. Shame and grief overwhelmed Eskel as he rode. He was a horrible person. Not only had he not been there for Aldith but he’d turned right around and murdered a man because why? He was upset that she died.

 

Chiding himself Eskel tried to remind himself that his extended lifespan didn’t apply to others. He’d watched kings come and go. Blacksmith’s shops change hands as the owners grew old and frail. The brothel was no different.

The signs had been there for Aldith too. Her hair—gone from dark to gray to white. The wrinkles and thinning skin. It was something he had chosen to ignore he realized because she meant something to him. She was his friend, confidant, and mentor. A trusted person whom he sought sexual and relationship advice from, and who he shared his adventures with—both sexual and monstrous.

 

Ignoring the effects of time hadn’t stopped them though. And Eskel couldn’t help feeling like he should have spent more time with her while he had it. That it would have been better to let her know out loud what she meant to him, in case she wasn’t there the next year.

 

She was gone and so much was left unsaid that he wanted to have shared with her. Eskel vowed if he met someone like that again he would say it, to them, before it was too late.

 

The ride north was a blur of fields and forests. Cold set in hard around Murivel. There was no snow but the nights held a chill that bit to the bone. Eskel’s mood did nothing to improve the situation. Food help little appeal to him, and he didn’t bother to rest most nights any more than absolutely necessary. Mostly he meditated at night to stave off exhaustion, it was better than sleeping because there were no dreams. It also gave Blue a chance to rest. Eskel didn’t want to run the stallion ragged, he’d done nothing to deserve that.

 

Choosing to ride across the far less populated plains of Kaedwen rather than take the roads along the rivers and towns like usual, would get Eskel back to Kaer Morhen faster, and bring him into contact with fewer people. He didn’t feel much like interacting with anyone so that seemed like a good plan. The downside was that if a monster or some bad luck befell him out there, he would be nowhere near help. He wasn’t sure that really mattered all that much though.

 

Each time that thought crept up in his head he thought of Geralt and how each year he worried silently that Eskel might not return and the similarly reflected fear that he had for Geralt. The desire to not put Geralt through that drove him to be mindful of the dangers as he chose his path across the plains. To make sure he stopped to stock up on rations in Drakenborg before plotting a line directly to the Blue Mountains. It was also what kept him from putting himself needlessly in harm’s way, even when it was tempting to do so. He would not challenge fate, for the sake of Geralt.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

Blue picked his way up The Killer carefully despite the ice starting to form on the rocky winding mountain path. It was freezing out, and Eskel had wrapped his cloak around himself in a bid to stay warm. Night had fallen just before they hit the bottom of the trail and Eskel was wary of taking it up in the dark.

 

When he was young he would have made camp at the bottom and waited. But he’d rode The Killer more times than he could count now, and its name held less fear for him, or maybe he just felt a little numb from the cold and the ache in his chest. Blue had navigated it well for several years, and Eskel wanted nothing more than to curl up in a real bed and rest. Sleep didn’t seem likely, but rest would be welcome.

 

So he’d urged Blue on and they’d started the climb. It was slow. Blue was meticulous about choosing his footing and Eskel wasn’t about to hurry him along. A few hours later they were approaching Kaer Morhen, and Eskel could see that the gate was down.

 

Of course. No one would be expecting him at this time of night. Or Lambert, or Geralt if they had yet to return. Eskel pondered the best way to get in as Blue plodded his way up to the gate. It was late, the moon was high, he doubted anyway one was awake.

 

At the gate Eskel dismounted. The bridge was down over the dry moat and his boots thumped as he walk across it. He looked at the stone walls contemplating if he could scale them, but he knew he couldn’t. He’d lived inside these walls for years, they weren’t designed to be easy to pass.

 

“Gods damnit!” Hitting the gate with the flat of his hand Eskel growled in frustration, giving it a kick before turning and stalking back to Blue. “Looks like we’re sleeping out here tonight, buddy. Sorry.”

 

Digging in his bedroll for his wool blanket Eskel propped his back up against the Kaer’s wall wrapping it around himself for heat, immediately regretting his decision to ride up in the night. It would have been warmer at the base of the mountain trail.

 

Eskel was staring off into the darkness at the woods around the keep when the wench on the gate started to crank. Disbelieving, he didn’t move, he didn’t care at that moment. The gate creaked and groaned rising up, and Geralt walked out clad only in boots and braies with a blanket wrapped around himself like a cloak to protect him from the cold wind.

“Eskel? What in the name of all the Gods are you doing out here at midnight?” Geralt walked towards him slowly at first but when Eskel made no effort to get up Geralt picked up speed rapidly. “Come on, we need to get you and Blue inside.”

 

Blindly following Geralt as he pulled him along Eskel huddled inside the stable while Geralt removed his saddle, bags, and tack from Blue. He didn’t even complain that Geralt skipped brushing his horse down, just glad to see that Blue would have a warm place for the night. He deserved that at least. Geralt hoisted Eskel’s pack and saddlebags over his shoulders and then heaved Eskel up by the forearm.

 

Again Eskel put up no resistance when Geralt steered him up the beaten paths to the keeps main entrance. Exhaustion started taking over once they were inside where it was warm. Eskel’s muscles started to protest the days on end without sleep or food. In the kitchen when Geralt went to open the door to the stairs leading up to his room, Eskel slumped at the table in front of the huge hearth.

 

“Alright, stay here. Let me put your things away and I’ll be right back for you.” Geralt’s voice floated over him and around the kitchen. There was no way Eskel was moving under his own power at the moment so Geralt really didn’t need to worry.

 

In fact Eskel was right where he’d been left when Geralt return a bit later. Eskel had lost track of time, letting the tiny bit of leftover warmth from the embers of the hearth soak into his skin through his armor on the side facing the giant fire grate. Soft footsteps approaching him went barely noticed until Geralt scooted his chair back startling him.

 

“Come on. It’s warmer upstairs. I restarted our fire.” Geralt was pulling him up by both arms, and drawing Eskel close. Leaning on Geralt made walking easier and Eskel was immediately grateful.

 

Using every ounce of energy left in himself Eskel climbed the circling stairs, leaning heavily on Geralt. He was quiet when Geralt unlatched the buckles on his armor, unlaced his leathers, and loosened his sword harness to slip it over his head. Peeling Eskel out of his armor layer by layer, Geralt set each piece aside for him on the trunk at the end of the bed.

 

When Eskel stood in just his braies and tunic Geralt slipped his hands underneath to run them over Eskel’s sides. Eskel wasn’t sure if Geralt was trying to warm him or soothe him, but the touch felt wrong. Shaking his head he put his hands over Geralt’s and took a step back—away. Grasping Geralt’s hands in his own Eskel brought them to his lips and brushed a chaste kiss against them before letting them fall.

 

Pulling the covers back Eskel crawled into his bed, it still held a shadow of Geralt’s warmth from before he’d come down to find Eskel at the gate. Eskel closed his eyes hard against the tears that wanted to spring forth at that realization. When Geralt snuggled up behind him wrapping an arm around Eskel’s waist to pull him back against himself Eskel shuddered. He couldn’t hold it back any longer and the tears came, soft and silent, as his body shook against Geralt’s.

 

Geralt said nothing and made no move, only held Eskel tight and pulled the covers high. Stayed with him until it stopped. Then stayed there holding him still until Eskel drifted off to sleep.

 

It wasn’t until mid-morning that Eskel drifted awake, limbs warm for the first time in two weeks. The smell of something sweet and spiced pulled at his mind. Rolling over he found the bed empty but not cold. There was an extra blanket drawn up to his shoulders and the fire was going strong. Eskel pushed himself up to sitting and collapsed back against his headboard.

 

Geralt was across the room, sitting on the arm of a chair by the fire watching him with worried eyes as he ate from a bowl. He gestured to the nightstand. “When was the last time you ate? Hells, when was the last time you shaved?”

 

Opening his mouth to answer, Eskel realized he wasn’t actually sure. He closed it and shrugged helplessly. Rubbing a hand over his chin Eskel felt the growth there, it had been at least since he’d started onto the Kaedweni plains. Somewhere along the way it had just stopped being important.

 

On the nightstand was a bowl. It must have been what he was smelling. Cooked oats with bits of apple, it smelled of honey and cinnamon. It smelled amazing and made his stomach roil all at once.

 

“Eat.” The demand in Geralt’s voice laced with fear startled Eskel into looking up from the bowl to him. “Please?”

 

Unable to stand disappointing Geralt on top of everything else Eskel picked up the bowl and set it in his lap. After a long pause, he brought the wooden spoon to his lips. The porridge was warm, and tasted pleasant, but swallowing was hard. Eskel fought the urge to gag. With each bite Geralt’s gaze got a little less intense, and Eskel noticed that Geralt occasionally looked down at his own bowl the more Eskel worked to eat.

 

And then finally Geralt broke the silence. “Will you tell me what happened?”

 

Setting the bowl aside, little more than half-eaten, Eskel straightened his legs out. Staring blankly at the bump of his feet under the covers, Eskel spoke flatly. “I went to Vizima.” Playing with the frayed threads on the end of one of the extra blanket Eskel rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. “An’ Aldith was dead. Died last year.”

 

Heaving in a breath and letting it out in a jagged huff of air, Eskel continued barreling past Geralt’s attempt at an apology getting louder as he went. “An’ then some jackass had the balls to call the girls at Eager Thighs _bloode kusses_ an’ I jus’ lost it. Beat the shit outta ‘im, an’ now he’s dead too.”

 

Eskel laughed sickly and low. “Murdered the man over words, aren’t I a real monster now?” Looking up at Geralt finally Eskel has a twisted smile on his face and he wasn’t even sure why. Waiting for Geralt to cast judgment maybe.

 

For a moment Geralt just held his gaze with his own golden eyes. “Can I come sit with you?”

 

“You want to?” Eskel couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice as it rose to a higher pitch.

 

“Of course I want to, I love you.” Geralt’s words were a simple salve to Eskel’s wounded soul. The bed dipped next to him and Geralt slotted himself beside Eskel. An arm reached out and snaked around Eskel’s shoulders, tried to pull him close but Eskel remained still and immobile.

 

“I’m sorry to hear about Aldith. She always sounded like a good woman and a great friend.” A deep breath next to him and another tug at his shoulders trying to pull him closer to Geralt but Eskel just couldn’t comply. Instead Geralt gave in and rested his head on Eskel’s shoulder. “Did you make the right choice in killing that man? Probably not. Have I killed a man in anger before? For revenge or justice? Yes.”

 

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” Geralt did pull Eskel into a hug then, and Eskel had no choice but to go with it.

 

A vague hazy thought came back to Eskel. “How’d you even know to come out to the gate last night?”

 

Geralt raised both eyebrows at him drawing back to give him a look. “You were making all kinds of noise, banging on it, and cursing. Could have woke our dead brothers, how would that not have woke me up and got me out there?”

 

A quiet, “Oh,” was all Eskel could manage in response.

 

“Woke Vesemir too, but I told the old man to stay in bed. That I’d get him if I needed him.” Eskel was glad Geralt hadn’t brought Vesemir out. He would not have wanted his mentor to see him like this.

 

“I prolly stink.” Eskel mumbled, both to Geralt and to himself. It was dawning on him just how far he’d let himself go, and he was still trying to decide if it mattered.

 

There was a small laugh next to him. “I wasn’t going to bring it up yet, but yeah.” The hand around his shoulder squeezed his arm. “I’ll heat the tub for you. You get it while I go downstairs and tell Vesemir morning? I’ll bring back some hot cider.”

 

There was a suspended pause, silence hanging in the air while Eskel turned the thought over in his mind. The thought of a scalding hot tub and warm cider to heat him inside and out warring with the feeling that he hadn’t earned either. Geralt nudged his shoulder with his own.

 

“Alright,” Eskel conceded.

 

Once Geralt had left the room it felt colder all of a sudden and Eskel was suddenly in a rush to strip out of his filthy braies and tunic. Dipping a foot into the water Eskel made a sound somewhere between a pained hiss and a pleasured groan. Geralt had indeed heated it as hot as Eskel could stand and he gingerly stepped in, lowering himself to sit on the wooden basin’s floor.

 

The lapping of the water at his shoulders was settling down, and Eskel had let his head fall back against the edge, when Geralt reappeared with tankard of spiced apple cider. It smelled of more cinnamon and maybe a hint of nutmeg. Eskel tried to remember the last thing he had drank that hadn’t tasted like vodka but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

 

Taking the tankard Eskel sipped it lightly. His stomach didn’t protest it the way it had the food at least, and the heat snaked its way down into his stomach, warming him from the inside too. There was a tug in his hair, and then another. Fingers carded through it. Geralt was brushing out the tangles and knots, Eskel realized. He let out a heavy sigh and took another sip. At least Geralt still cared enough to care for his body. This went on until all the snarls had been worked out. Taking the mug out from Eskel’s hand Geralt motioned for him to wet his hair and Eskel blindly complied.Dipping his whole head under the water Eskel rose up sputtering.

 

Deft fingers worked a bar of soap into Eskel’s hair, digging deep into his scalp and dragging across it as they lathered the lye. Some of the days of tension seeped out of Eskel and into the hot water. A hand on his shoulder urged him forward and with the other hand behind his neck Geralt lowered his head into the water to rinse the suds away leaving the surrounding water dark with dirt. Somewhere along the way Eskel had stopped fighting it.

 

Eskel breathed softly when Geralt put juniper scented oil in his hair, working it to the roots and then lowering his head into the water to rub the excess away. Letting his head rest where Geralt laid it on the edge again, Eskel didn’t blink or speak when Geralt lathered his week old stubble with his shave soap. The bourbon and juniper scent lingering over the whole tub as Geralt tilted his head back pulling Eskel’s straight razor over his skin.

 

The metal still glided along his neck the same as every other day, Eskel noted to himself. It didn’t jump or jar suddenly just because she was dead and he had killed a man. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing next to the sharp blade, but Geralt kept going. Slowly moving around to restore every part of Eskel’s face, revealing smooth skin in his wake. Eskel tried not to breathe as Geralt edged around the ragged scars on his lip and cheek. Since he’d gotten them he’d never let another person shave him. Not that he had paid a barber often before that either, but since it was more out of fear getting cut and the strong emotional tie he associated with letting people touch them.

 

When the blade was rinsed clean in the water for the last time, scraggly chestnut beard floating away from him, Eskel let out a huge sigh. It was a relief, a weight off his chest he hadn’t known he was carrying. Geralt dipped a cloth in the water and wiped Eskel’s face clean.

 

Then lathered it with lye and placed it in Eskel’s hand. “Unless you want me to wash you? It seemed like that was too much last night though.” There was a tinge of hurt at those words that Geralt had been unable to hide and Eskel wished he could welcome the touch but it would feel wrong.

 

“Thank you. I still want you.” Eskel paused to rethink his words. “I still want you here I mean, I jus’ don’t think I can handle bein’ touched like that right now.”

 

Geralt nodded as he walked back to the armoire. Looking through it in silence he started pulling out some of Eskel’s clothes.

 

“I want you to stay though, and hold me. Makes me feel better. I love you an’ I don’ wanna lose you too.” Eskel could feel his chest getting tight as he said the words, and he tried to breathe through it. To focus only on washing himself.

 

A sad sounding sigh came from the other side of the room. “Oh Eskel, you won’t lose me.” A pile of clothes and a towel were dropped on the floor outside the tub, and Geralt’s voice came much closer now. “I’m right here, and I am not going anywhere.”

 

“Alright.” Eskel swallowed hard again. Fuck. His voice was so much more watery than he had thought it would be, and he wondered when he would stop crying at every other thought.

 

Out of the tub and toweled off Eskel let Geralt help him dress in clean braies, a comfortable pair of wool trousers, and a thick wool tunic. Clothes he normally saved for the dead nights of mid-winter but he was having a hard time shaking the cold still. Geralt gave him the spare blanket to wrap up in and piled the pillows high against the headboard. Once Geralt was settled back against it he folded his legs and invited Eskel to lay down with his head in his lap.

 

“Can’t jus’ lay in bed all day.” Eskel grumbled.

 

“Who says we can’t?” Geralt countered back.

 

Following Geralt’s directions, Eskel curled up next to him, laying his head on Geralt’s thigh. “Vesemir is gonna come up here an’ tell us to get our asses to work.”

 

“Vesemir is going to leave us be until I tell him you’re ready to be bothered.” Geralt’s tone brooked no argument and Eskel was a little worried about what Geralt had told Vesemir to warrant being left alone without so much as an argument that work was good for the troubled mind. “I have, ‘ _Lowland Fae and Their Feeding Habits_ ’ or ‘ _Gnomish Prankings: Volume 2, Unedited Edition_ ’. What should we read?”

 

Eskel couldn’t help that his lip turned up in a teeny smile at that. Gods he was so glad he had Geralt to keep him from wallowing deeper in his pit of self pity. “Definitely ‘ _Gnomish Prankings 2_ ’.” Settling in further Eskel slipped a hand under Geralt’s thigh squeezing it lightly in thanks.

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

It didn’t happen right away. Or even in a week. But slowly over time Eskel felt more like himself and less like a monster. What he had done was wrong and he knew that. What the man had said was wrong and Eskel knew that too. It hadn’t warranted a death sentence though, and Eskel knew his own strength better than most. No one was going to absolve him of his own choices, he would have to come to live with them on his own.

 

Aldith was gone. And it still hurt. It would hurt for a long time to come, Eskel expected. The ache had faded from a sharp throb in his chest to a dull hollow emptiness. He’d think of something he needed to remember to tell her the next time he saw her, and then it would hit him that there were no next times anymore.

 

The tears didn’t come as heavy or as often, and Geralt stayed close by through all of them, in case Eskel needed him. Most of all Eskel stopped shuddering at every touch. The desire to keep Geralt’s hands off his skin washed further and further away with every hot bath. Slowly the need for Geralt’s warm body next to his own naked one returned. Geralt was always vigilant though, never pushing the point. Waiting for Eskel to take the lead.

 

So Eskel took the lead, asking for what he craved the best way he knew how. With Geralt already crawled into bed naked and waiting, Eskel stripped out of his braies and tunic while Geralt watched on, one eyebrow arched at him.

 

“S’alright. I want you.” Eskel didn’t give Geralt a chance to second guess what as going on, just joined him under the covers and pressed himself flush against Geralt, pressing his lips hard against his mouth.

 

When Geralt’s hand pressed into his hip to hold him back in question, Eskel continued kissing him and moved Geralt’s hand to rest over the swell of his own ass. Then he broke the kiss, breathless, “S’alright. I said I want you, I mean it.” With a gentle kiss to punctuate his meaning Eskel ran his own hand down Geralt’s back to the swell of his ass.

 

Eskel pulled back to look Geralt in the eyes. Gold pools, with swelling puddles of black. Eskel pumped his hips experimentally against Geralt’s and was rewarded with a sharp exhalation and Geralt’s eyes snapping into focus on him. “Yeah? What do you want from me?”

 

There was a laugh and Eskel thought it sounded deep before it hit him it was his own, it had been so long since he’d heard it. “Yeah. I wanna touch you.” Eskel squeezed Geralt’s ass in his hand and rubbed his face into Geralt’s neck inhaling that particularly intoxicating mixture of leather and blade oil that was all Geralt. “Or let you ride me. Have you touch me. It’s been too long an’ I miss you.”

 

“Yes, please. That.” Geralt’s words were breathy and Eskel obliged rolling onto his back and pulling Geralt with him until he rested atop Eskel’s hips.

 

The desire to let Geralt touch him anyway he would rolled through Eskel. To let Geralt reclaim the parts of Eskel that belonged exclusively to him, that he had been denied while Eskel had dwelled on the worst in life. Taking Geralt’s hand Eskel placed it on his chest, covering it with his own. “Touch me.” Guiding Geralt’s hand down Eskel left it sitting low on his abdomen. His own hands settled on each of Geralt’s thighs, straddling his hips.

 

Rocking his pelvis upward Eskel sighed softly, alternating light squeezes with caresses on Geralt’s legs, working higher and higher from his knees up. After a stunned moment Geralt gently swept his thumb over Eskel’s abdomen, drawing a wet moan from him, and a rough buck of his hips. A few more barely there sweeps and circles made Geralt bold. He slid his hand down to palm Eskel’s cock. Hard, thick, and hot as it pressed up against Geralt’s hand Eskel groaned loudly.

 

“Yeah, tha’s it.” Dropping his hips and lifting them against Geralt’s palm again, Eskel sought the friction he’d gone months without. Geralt’s other hand darted forward to pinch at a nipple and Eskel cried out.

 

“Uhgn!” Taking a heavy breath in Eskel blinked slowly and tried to focus on Geralt as he did it again. “Fuck, Geralt.” One hand on Eskel’s chest supporting his own weight and slowly plucking at Eskel’s tightly budding nipple and the other still palming Eskel’s cock, Geralt was leaned over Eskel, eyes blown wide, lost in giving Eskel pleasure.

Panting harshly Eskel was quickly losing himself in Geralt’s touches. His thrusts against Geralt’s palm were erratic and electrifying, sending sparks up his spine. When Geralt wrapped his fingers all the way around him, Eskel felt like he’d been burned and cried out again.

 

“Need oil.” Geralt was rising up, blissful fingers leaving Eskel’s oh so sensitive nipple to hold Geralt up on the bed while he searched through the nightstand drawer.

 

A cold glass bottle was unceremoniously pressed into Eskel’s hand. As Geralt returned to lay back over Eskel instead of returning to sit on Eskel’s hips he knelt over Eskel on all fours. Dipping his head down to kiss Eskel, Geralt mouthed over the silky notch of his scarred lip whispering against Eskel’s mouth. “Touch me now? Get me ready?”

 

Eskel felt a giant lump in his throat at those words. Gods, how he wanted Geralt now. It had been so fucking long now, and the weight of it hit him hard. The whole summer apart and then the long weeks of him… just not being able to.

 

Letting out a shaky breath Eskel uncorked the cold glass vial and tipped it onto his fingers. Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing and Geralt’s clear strong heartbeat. Loud and fast in his ears. Warming the oil on his fingers Eskel put his other hand on Geralt’s ass and urged him further up his body so he could reach better.

 

When Geralt moved up easily Eskel lifted his head up to kiss Geralt’s chest above him. Sliding his oiled hand past Geralt’s stiff cock and balls, Eskel stroked his fingers over the sensitive skin behind Geralt’s sac, pressing against it. As he began to lose himself in concentrating on his task Eskel let his oily fingers slide over Geralt’s tight pucker, slipping back and forth past it to tease at the entrance without ever pressing in.

 

Slowly Eskel circled the ring of muscle there until it felt soft and relaxed under his touch before he ever set the tip of a finger against Geralt’s entrance, pressing into him in one slow slick slide while Geralt shuddered and moaned above him.

 

In and out, Eskel sawed one finger, fucking Geralt on it as slow as he dared. When Geralt’s body offered no resistance at all and sucked him in on every pass Eskel added another finger and separated them in a deliberate stretch that had Geralt’s breath huffing out in small broken puffs of air. Eskel brought his fingers together and thrust them deep pulling them apart as he drew them out of Geralt’s hole again. Geralt keened high and desperate at the stretch.

 

“Now. Please, Eskel. I need you NOW.” Geralt’s ass was trying to close down around his fingers and Eskel’s gut clenched hotly at Geralt’s words.

 

“Thought you were ridin’ me?” Eskel could hear the smile in his own voice. He wanted this, wanted Geralt’s naked body seated on his own, wanted to watch Geralt pleasure himself until he came undone and crashed in those broken waters with him.

 

“Just let me…” Geralt was eagerly trying to readjust himself over Eskel. Moving down, sitting back on his haunches and reaching behind himself to take hold of Eskel’s cock. Eskel sucked in a rough breath at the way Geralt grabbed his cock, rubbing the swollen head against his own ass before settling with it tucked tight up to his hole.

 

Captivated, Eskel couldn’t tear his eyes away. Geralt had cupped his balls and was holding them up and out of the way, providing a perfect view for Eskel as he lowered himself down, his body gradually swallowing Eskel’s cock whole. Inching down, until he was almost completely seated, Geralt rose up slightly and dropped down again to take the last of it. A shiver ran through him as Eskel’s cock nudged into his prostate when he rose and fell. Staying still for only a moment, Geralt leaned forward to put his hands on Eskel’s chest, opening his eyes and staring right into Eskel’s soul.

 

At first he started slow and Eskel wanted to die from the heat and the silky tight squeeze all around his cock as Geralt rocked forward, sliding his ass up and down Eskel’s cock. Geralt moaned as he gently took Eskel in each time, leisurely sinking down to the base. Biting his lip, Eskel flexed his toes, curling them and arching his feet as his own pleasure built higher and higher. Watching Geralt did nothing to slow it.

 

Eventually Geralt pushed himself off of Eskel’s chest, leaning back on one hand behind himself to support his weight as he rose and fell faster in rhythm with the roll of Eskel’s hips. He’d reached down and teased his own cock. Eskel watched, breathing harshly through his open mouth as a bead of milky white precum dribbled down the length of Geralt’s cock, running into his fingers. Geralt’s ass was rippling around him and Eskel wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out if Geralt kept up the show.

 

A grunt of arousal broke free from Eskel and Geralt sped up, leaning further back and dropping himself none to gently down on Eskel’s cock with each thrust, forcing the head of Eskel’s cock up against his prostate on every pass.

Cock leaking profusely Geralt gasped and shuddered. “Gods, I’m gonna come. Don’t stop now.”

 

Geralt’s ass was pulsing around him and Eskel couldn’t hold back his own orgasm. Every muscle in his body tingled as he let go, filling Geralt up. But still Geralt continued, lifting and dropping himself, shuddering and whining as he chased his pleasure. Eskel matched every fall of Geralt’s hips with a thrust of his own, pushing through his own pleasure until it was almost painful. Until Geralt tensed up and rocked forward on him painting Eskel’s stomach white, open mouth pressed against his chest in a silent scream.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings-
> 
> descriptions of severe depression  
> graphic descriptions of violence  
> minor character death  
> mild suicidal ideation if you squint


End file.
